


Dreams of Darak'i

by Silverhart (Avalbane)



Category: Eldemore
Genre: Birdfamily Pack, Breaking canon, Cally is bestdad, Cally makes salad, Deer are friends not food, Fluff, Muffins, Oblivion's Curse, Scruffles, Transformation, aggressive gay puppy, birdmomma, fluffy muffins, habi’b, muffin fluff, muffin ship, obligatory campfire scene, piratedad, pretty deer prince, such sass, the good ship Muffin, the muffins were a lie, your daily recommended dose of muffins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avalbane/pseuds/Silverhart
Summary: After the Sealer leaves in response to Master Thanatos' summons, Caladaer, Fenrir, and the spirit Hubris are left to make their way back to Silverport. As Fenrir struggles with his newfound bond with Hubris, he dreams of a home now broken. But with plenty of duct tape, wolf spit, and a little bit of help from a certain pretty deer prince, mayhaps he can build himself a new one.





	1. Chapter 1

_'Good afternoon prince.'_

 

 _'Good afternoon Hubris,'_ Caladaer replied to the voice inside Fenrir's head. _'How are you feeling today?'_

 

_'That sandwyrm bite still pains us, though Fenrir won't admit to it. It's this cold weather. The damp makes it ache.'_

 

_'I'll tend to it. Even if I have to hold our wolfkin down.'_

 

A warm chuckle emanated from the spirit, and Fenrir stirred in his sleep. The wolfkin's face was twisted in a grimace. _'He's dreaming again,'_ Hubris observed. ' _They have been troubling him lately.'_

 

 _'Should I..?'_ Caladaer reached out with mental fingertips to brush against Fenrir's unconsciousness, but Hubris stopped him.

 

_'No. Leave him be for now. I doubt he'd appreciate the intrusion.'_

 

Caladaer acknowledged this, but sent a wave of peaceful energy Fenrir's way anyway. The white-haired wolfkin twitched in his sleep, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden intrusion in his dreams.

 

Fenrir was running wild in his subconscious, tearing something hot and bloody to shreds. Power coursed through him, making him feel alive and strong and _free_. How good it felt to finally let lose and give in completely to his inner wolf, even if it was only in dreams. The wanton destruction was intensely satisfying.

 

Something brushed against his dream self, warm and smelling of sandalwood. A tall figure rose up beside the wolf, elegant and strong, and lifted a bow. Fenrir watched it loose an arrow, chased along it's course, as it sunk into the flesh of some writhing black beast. It bloomed into a rose of blood, vibrant and throbbing.

 

The scene lurched, and Fenrir felt an imaginary stab in his side. He looked around to see himself lying in a pool of rose petals, bleeding profusely, a thorn shot through his side.

 

The image sent him jerking awake. The peace and tranquility of the evening snapped back around him, even as his heart hammered wildly. The wolfkin picked himself up off the bedroll with a groan, head throbbing from thirst or hunger – he couldn't tell which.

 

He seized upon the nearest wineskin and guzzled down its contents greedily. When at last his thirst was slacked he looked across at the figure on the other side of the fire.

 

The worry was writ all over his face. The prince tried to hide it, but Fenrir could see through the nervous smile and the carefully calculated way he met and held his gaze. Refusing to show fear. Putting on a brave front. Fenrir didn't know who was trying to fool exactly.

 

Fenrir choose to stretch his aching muscles before addressing him. That whole fiasco a few weeks back had left him with more then a few bruises. Despite Caladaer's magic, his side still twinged where that twice-cursed she-wolf had stabbed him, and the rough traveling had only added to his growing collection of sore muscles. He welcomed the slight aches of mortal flesh – every night he dropped onto his bedroll too exhausted to dwell on other matters. Sometimes he was so dead tired he didn't even recall his dreams.

 

But there were far more important things then bad dreams at hand. The hungry wolfkin watched now with rapt attention as Caladaer sliced some sort of root up and added it to it to the boiling pot. Earlier the elvian had fussed over getting the cooking fire started. Fenrir's sleepy mind vaguely recalled the curse he'd uttered after dropping the tinderbox twice. The word had taken him by surprise, as it always did when the pretty little deer prince showed his fangs. Then again, he might very well have dreamed that whole occurrence, as he'd dropped off soon after that, and didn't remember the fire being started.

 

The flames crackled away quite happily now, licking away at the pot, so evidently Caladaer had gotten it started, and a blend of scents now rose from the bubbling water.

 

“How long was I asleep?”

 

“Not long. Half the hour perhaps.” Caladaer stirred the pot. Fenrir found himself watching the elvian closely, like a ban'on observing prey for the first time; mapping behaviors, probing for weakness, watching to see when the pressure became too much, and a tiny slip up provided the opportunity to slip in and attack.

 

Except Cally wasn't prey.

 

_'Will you stop staring at him as if he were a jackalope haunch? It's starting to get a little creepy.'_

 

Fenrir jumped, growling in surprise. The elvian looked up at the sound, but otherwise acted unfazed. Fenrir had been snapping at shadows since they left the Hubris temple. The prince soon went back to adding more of those veg-table-things, or whatever he called them to the pot.

 

 _'You know, you don't have to watch,'_ Fenrir silently snarked at Hubris.

 

 _'Neither do you,'_ Hubris chuckled deeply.

 

The voice in his head was big, not loud, but it seemed to fill every corner of his skull when Hubris used it; thick as honey it snaked around and oozed through the crevices, threatening to overtake Fenrir's small voice.

 

At first, finally being able to talk to the spirit that had inhabited his body for so long had been a relief. It felt as though Fenrir were discovering himself, and Hubris as well – days were filled with poking and probing at the other, asking questions, and testing limits. It had been an enlightening experience for both of them, full of fascinating discoveries.

 

It had gotten old surprisingly quickly, once he discovered there was no escaping Hubris, not even in his most private thoughts. The spirit was always there, even when he was trying to politely pretend that he wasn't. Hubris had oft pointed out how he was experiencing the same lack of privacy, but Fenrir would angrily counter that he was a spirit without a flesh body. A body that had needs and feelings best kept private.

 

_'Well, I think it's all fascinating.'_

 

_'I think you're sick in the head.'_

 

_'Seeing as how I'm in your head, does that make you - '_

 

_'Oh shut up.'_

 

Delilah cocked her head, giving Fenrir a concerned look. His dire wolf had been showing concern these past few days, asking if everything was alright. It was, he always assured her. _I'm just changing into something else. Something not Fenrir and not Hubris, and I don't what that thing is._ Fenrir just shrugged at her, and turned attentions back towards Caladaer, who seemed especially intent on whatever he was brewing. Too intent.

 

_'Is he ignoring me? I didn't say anything stupid to him, did I?'_

 

_'You mean, aside from the normal level of idiocy you spout?'_

 

_'You can't see it, but I'm imagining a very rude gesture in your direction.'_

 

_'Hahahaha!'_

 

“Cally, what are you trying to do to my dinner? You're frowning at that pot like it just insulted your mother.” Caladaer's grimace quirked up a bit at that. Fenrir wagged his tail in encouragement. “What's the glitch here?”

 

“The... what?”

 

“What's eating you?”

 

_'Poor choice of words there, Fenrir.'_

 

“Shit! I didn't mean - “ Fenrir bit down on his own lip, or maybe it was Hubris stopping him from putting any more of his foot in it.

 

 _'I wish you wouldn't swear,'_ Hubris scoffed. _'It ill becomes you.'_

 

Caladaer looked confused, and then his expression softened. “You mean what's bothering me, I take it?” he asked tentatively.

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

The deer prince gave him a weary smile. “Ever since the Sealer received that note, I've just had a bad feeling. We shouldn't have let them go alone. They're so young.”

 

“Oh, is that all?” He was relieved it wasn't about him. Fenrir grinned, baring fangs. “The pup'll be fine Cally. Gotta let 'em run their own hunts sometime.”

 

“You don't know what it was like just trying to get to the desert with them. They have a remarkable sense for trouble, that one.”

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

Caladaer smiled in absent fondness, an expression that Fenrir rather liked on him. “We were delayed by weeks because the Sealer found what they insisted were 'Ursa' tracks. Turns out it was just an old liger, but they were just as happy to 'adopt' it as anything else. And the traders – we talked to every one we met. I think if the Sealer hadn't run out of baubles we'd have brought a whole caravan of creatures back with us.”

 

“So no different then now, currently.” Fenrir cast his eye over the edges of their campsite, where everything from elkrin to dhol'kai to jackalopes was settling down for the night. The Sealer had lugged along crates for the smaller animals, complete with cushions and padding to make them feel snug, but one of the otterlings had figured out how to open them, and now, standing open, they served as little more then serval lookouts, while the tiny creatures fluttered around outside of them.

 

Not that Caladaer or Fenrir were worried over the animals, who knew the elvian and his companion were their free meal tickets. Two days ago, Fenrir had spent hours trying to chase down a pod of escaped otterlings, before finally giving up. Soon as Cally had struck the side of his pot with his spoon, they had all come running back, much to Fenrir's chagrin. The Sealer had argued logically that they'd be able to move much faster with only their soulcrow for company, which was the main reason Caladaer had agreed to let them go on alone while the two trueborns herded the parade of animals back to the homestead. The other reason, that they all knew but didn't voice, was so Cally could bring Fenrir back to Silverport as soon as possible.

 

It grated on Fenrir how delicately the elvian tiptoed around him, setting a slow pace, reminding him to go easy. He was healthy and hale – a bit battered emotionally, but perfectly capable of pushing onward at a faster pace – in fact he was better then capable! Just because his transformations were getting a bit... unpredictable, it was no reason for him to be treated like an invalid.

 

“Is it always like this?” Fenrir asked now as a rather daring chillawing perched itself on Delilah's head and began to wash it's face.

 

“It would seem so.” Cally chuckled, and then stopped. Fenrir was eying that chillawing a little too intently. “Fenrir!”

 

“What?! I wasn't doing anything!”

 

“You were thinking it!”

 

_'Can confirm. You were indeed thinking it.'_

 

Fenrir growled. “Well, it's not as if one little chillawing is going to be missed...”

 

“You'll spoil your appetite! And after all the trouble I went to making you this stew!”

 

“Right. The vegetables.” Huffing, Fenrir rested his chin in his hands, and looked mournfully at the plump little rodent trying to burrow into Delilah's fur. With great effort he tore his eyes away from the little morsel and back to the discussion at hand. “They're a good pup.”

 

“The Sealer? Oh yes. But young, and all on their own. I feel this... sense of dread over the whole thing. I shall be glad when we get back to Silverport.”

 

“Ah, ol' Silverport. The serval-ridden cesspool of humankind. Nothing but damp, damp, damp.”

 

“It's good for the flowers at least.” Cally tossed some fresh herbs into the pot. “The garden out back has been thriving. I do hope Willy followed my instructions regarding the weeding.” Now Cally's face crinkled into a worry of a different kind. “I would love to show it to you, when we get home.”

 

“Home..?” Fenrir was taken off guard by the word. At his reaction, Cally flushed.

 

“Of course, I've come to think of it as my home only recently. Sorren and Willy have been most gracious hosts. They make me feel so at ease. It almost feels as if Silverport has always been my home.”

 

“Yeah, Sorren always was a nesting sort of bird.”

 

Caladaer tried to hide his grin and failed. A nervous hand flew to brush the hair from his face and he caught himself and pulled away. “It's not my place to say - but mayhaps the birdfamily can become yours as well. Home, I mean. And Delilah's too, of course!”

 

Fenrir grinned toothily at him, amused by his fumbling. His ears were perked forward in interest, and if Hubris had ears he was sure they'd be perked as well. He could feel the spirit's interest matching his own.

 

“I appreciate that. Not sure Willy or his... _feline_ , would be so quick to welcome us, eh Delilah?” She barked in confirmation. “The two of us - “

 

_'Ah hem?'_

 

“- three of us. We're... we're free spirits, ha'bib. Wolfkin are nomads by nature. Our home is wherever our feet carry us. Not that we won't take full advantage of your hospitality while it lasts.” He grinned at the deer prince.

 

“But you will stay with us for some time? I still need to keep an eye on your progress with Hubris. I'm sure we can work through this thing, whatever it is, together.” He smiled warmly, and Fenrir was hard pressed not to return it, his face breaking into an idiotic grin.

 

“Of course! I'll stay until Willy throws us out on our tails.”

 

 _'Or until we run out of food,'_ Hubris added. _  
_

 

_'Oh, Willy would throw us out before he let that happen.'_

 

Caladaer cocked an eyebrow. “You sure being confined to the city will be alright with your 'free spirit'?”

 

“Oh yes, my spirit loves free. Especially free room and board.”

 

The deer prince laughed at that, and it was like a bell on a clear moonless night, honest and sweet. The sound made Fenrir's chest feel light, as if he would drift away should a gust of wind blow through camp.

 

“Well, you'll always be welcome in my little corner of the world, habi'b,” Caladaer told him, causing Fenrir to flush.

 

_'Did he just call you, 'swee-?'_

 

_'Shut up, Hubris.'_

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Don't you worry your pretty little head, deer prince. I'll be just fine!”

 

“I still don't think this a good idea.” Caladaer looked on in concern as Fenrir splashed his face with stream water. The sudden burst of cold woke up his senses, as well as Hubris, who Fenrir felt bristle in his mind at the refreshing chill.

 

“It's not that I don't enjoy your cooking, habi'b -”

 

_'If I have to go another night with you picking green stuff out of your teeth, I will be sick.'_

 

“- but I'm a meat eater. And a meat eater needs meat.”

 

“Yes... that's what the term would seem to imply. But are you positive you'll be alright? Have you ever hunted in a wood before? It's not at all like hunting in a desert, and you don't know the landscape.”

 

“Cally, who's the wolfkin here?”

 

The elvian blinked. “You... are?”

 

Fenrir grinned at him like a mentor pleased with his student's correct answer. “Right! Hunting's in my blood. No offense Cally, but a wolfkin taking hunting lessons from an elvian? That's not the way it works, my friend. Right Hubris?”

_'Prince Caladaer may actually be able to offer some valuable insigh-'_

 

“Hubris agrees with me.”

 

Caladaer's mouth twitched upright into a sly smile. “Still, this is unfamiliar terrain for you. You're still new working with Hubris...” Caladaer trailed off, looking nervous. “I'm just concerned. If something went wrong...”

 

“Look, I've been running as a wolf for as long as I can remember. I don't think I need any help with it.”

 

“I didn't mean to imply any incompetence, but last time it - “

 

“Enough!” Fenrir snapped, startling Caladaer into silence. The look on the prince's face made him instantly regret the flare of his temper. He drooped his ears, embarrassed at his outburst. Quickly he tried to mask it. “I'll have Delilah and Hubris with me. And it's just a simple hunt. Not going after anything like that Sandwyrm. Few jackalo – I mean. Uh...”

 

The smile Cally gave him was easy and relaxed. “It's alright. As long as you don't ask me to eat any of them. But I do wish you'd let me come with you...”

 

Now that was sight Fenrir would pay baubles to see - an elvian on a hunt, but, “Someone's gotta stay behind to wrangle the Sealer's pets! I'll be back before nightfall, don't you worry.” The wolfkin gave Caladaer a broad wink, before he whisked away, waving his tail in salute. Seeing that they were starting off Delilah gave a soft _wuff_ of excitement and fell in step beside her alpha.

 

Fenrir bounded through the nearby creek on two legs, enjoying the splash of the water around his ankles. Even after traveling outside the desert so many times running water still felt like a novelty – he took every opportunity to splash through the smaller creeks and streams. _Take that water!_ He loped up the rise on the other side, spun to raise a hand in farewell to Cally, and then the wolfkin was gone over the top of the rise.

 

_'Ah! It'll feel good to at last stretch these legs! And what a marvelous forest this is. The last I was here it was but a splinter of scrub land.'_

Fenrir leapt onto a large mossy boulder, and paused, listening to Hubris exalt on the good ol' days when he was undisputed King of the deserts. His stories were fascinating to listen to, but Fenrir had no time for them today. “Where should we start looking? Delilah?”

 

The white wolf lolled her tongue, tail wagging happily. Her fierce, yellow eyes seemed to glow in the shadows under the trees.

 

“Right – open ground. Sounds good.” Fenrir turned his attentions inward toward Hubris. _'You ready for this, you old loiter-sack?'_

 

 _'Haha! Are_ you _ready, Fenrir?'_ He felt the wolf spirit's excitement building, as if Hubris were a dire on a chain trying to break free. Fenrir quickly tapped into his own power and let it run out with Hubris. There was a loud _whomp!_ and the wolfkin was swept up in a rush of ecstasy, at last free to run and give in to -

 

“Oww!” Fenrir looked up to find a pink nose in his face. He blinked blearily up at Delilah who was looking down on him, face full of playful curiosity. Fenrir straightened up, shaking leaves from his hair. _'What the-? What happened?'_

_'You fell off the rock.'_

“Oh.” The wolfkin rubbed the back of his sore head, glancing up at the boulder. Delilah wagged her tail and gave his cheek a lick, ever the dutiful momma-wolf. He grabbed her by the ruff and wrestled with her, until she broke free, laughing her wolfish laugh. She told him to stop being so silly, but her tail was wagging as she relayed this.

 

 _'You really must concentrate harder, Fenrir. You're far too flippant,'_ Hubris chided him, breaking in on his play with Delilah. _'Well, at least it wasn't off a cliff I suppose. I would hope you'd not be that foolish.'_

 

“Glad for the vote of confidence Hubris.”

 

_'Let's try that again – with paws firmly set on the ground this time.'_

Fenrir rolled upright, nerves still a buzz from his failed attempt. He reached again for that magic deep within him, the one so familiar, so much himself. The alien magic of Hubris whirled around, large and powerful, almost suffocating in it's vastness. Unlocking his own power was like breaking open a dam – unlocking Hubris' was like riding a tsunami.

 

He opened the floodgates regardless, and was swept away on it's tide. With a snarl far deeper then his own, Hubris took off with Fenrir. They raced through the trees, reveling in the power of their limbs, rejoicing in the new and exciting scents. Sounds were sharper, actions smoother, thoughts less troubling. Well, save for one thought. Food.

 

They charged up a hill. Fenrir was aware of the ground under his paws – cold and loamy. How long had it been since the soil here had felt sunlight? he wondered absently. At the top of the hill they slowed, taking in the trees all around. The slant of light through the branches gave everything an almost mystical feel. Fenrir felt Hubris' enjoyment welling up within, threatening yo overtake his own being. With a snarl Fenrir broke out of his revelry long enough to snap at Hubris.

 _'Hey! Enough!'_ He bit at the air, trembling all over with excitement, and barely constrained power. He felt as if he might explode from the magnitude of magic coursing through his blood. It was too much for a mortal to contain, and he pawed at his head as a throbbing started behind his eyes. These headaches had become frequent since Hubris had joined him in his head. They seemed to grow worse with every transformation.

He felt concerned interest radiating from Delilah. _'I'm fine,'_ he reassured her, bending his head to lick at her chin.

 

A scent was caught on the wind, and every fiber of his being went rigid. _Food._ Hunger clawed at his belly like a ravenous beast. He leapt down the hill, swept up in a single moment, held crystal clear in a frozen drop of time.

 

He ran after the scent, his focus shrinking until all he knew was the smell. He knew all of that smell, every tiny quirk of. And all else faded to oblivion, even Hubris power paled in pursuit of the prey. Years of training and generations of instinct drove him onward. Delilah was beside him, and though the area might have been strange, the thrill of the hunt was as familiar as the feel of his own wolf skin. It was glorious. Better then glorious. He grabbed at Hubris power, let it carry forward with bounding leaps, far ahead of Delilah, as only an alpha should. Tress sped by in a blur, but still he went faster. He soared over fallen logs and rocks as if he could fly. It might as well have been flying - he seemed almost to hover in midair after every leap. He was about to enjoy everything a wolfkin fueled by Hubris could do.

_'Fenrir! Hold! Stop running, you mad fool!'_

 

He didn't remember much of the stalking. Only running. Running that sang in his blood and made him feel more alive then ever. He remembered tripping over branches. He remembered the flash of a tail as it escaped his jaws, the pulse of blood in his ears. He remembered getting stuck in the brambles, ripping and tearing his way out, their spiky thorns pulling at his fur and skin like tiny claws dragging at him, trying to pull him down into the earth. He'd thrashed through them with hardly a care, biting them to pieces – it probably explained why his paws and mouth seemed so raw now. He remember pouncing - soaring really, over the startled heads of the elkrin. And not much else.

Shaking his head, Fenrir sat up, temples pounding. He gave a low moan. Everything suddenly hurt. Why did he hurt? He flopped back down. “I think I... I blacked out. I feel like hell.” Realization slowly dawned on him, and he opened his eyes. “ _Hubris_ -” he snarled.

_'Don't go looking to pin your blame on me. I told you to stop running.'_

_'What happened?'_ Fenrir asked, silently this time.

_'See for yourself.'_

 

Slowly the wolfkin opened his eyelids. Before him lay a scene of carnage. Blood was soaking slowly into the earth, and a fresh carcass lay on it's side, it's haunches ripped to shreds by some hungry animal. It's entrails were gone, eaten no doubt. A single fly buzzed over the empty cavity. An elkrin, Fenrir saw. The same scent he'd been chasing after.

 

Delilah was there, her white fur all streaked a pretty pink, licking at her paws. She tilted her head at Fenrir, and gave a questioning whine.

 

He groaned and closed his eyes again.

 

_'If it's any consolation – it was delicious.'_

_'You need to stop taking over my body Hubris!'_ Fenrir fluffed himself up, bristling like a dire defending it's territory, which he was - though the territory was his head.

_'I did nothing this time Fenrir. I tried pulling you back, but you stole my power and ran wild with it. I think it overwhelmed you. There was nothing I could do, but let you wear yourself out before I could pull you back.'_

_'Pull me... back? Did I-?'_

_'Go feral? Not quite. But you came close.'_ The spirit sounded surprisingly calm over this whole fiasco. Somehow it made Fenrir feel more unnerved then comforted. He remembered the last time, so very recently when he'd lost control. It had felt so wonderful – a taste of what his ancestors must have felt so very long ago – one glorious second of no inhibitions, no fears, no worries, only his strength and speed. And he also remembered the horrible, sinking feeling afterwards - the fear over his loss of control and how close his companions came to suffering for it.

 

He ran a hand over his face. _'It came so easy this time,'_ he muttered.

_'Loss of control often does.'_

 

He recalled the hunt in flashes. Biting, tearing, the falling of the doe – he thought it was doe. It was a bit too mangled to tell at this point. If he felt like it he could probably start piecing the bits and pieces together into a full memory, but his brain felt fuzzy, his mental processes drained. He groaned again and rolled over on his back. The ground felt delightfully cool and refreshing under the trees.

 

 _'You've still a long way to go in regards to control,'_ Hubris' voice sounded huffy.

 

 _'Don't you start with me. I had perfect_ control _, before you came along and decided to start messing in my head.'_

 

 _I don't like it. I don't want to feel this way._ Fenrir thought to himself, though Hubris heard it just as clearly as if he'd thought it at him. _Damn mouch, sticking your fat nose in everything._ In that moment he gave in to the indulgence of self pity. He felt helpless – at the mercy of Hubris' unlimited power, and whims, trapped in a body that was no longer his own. But it _was his._

 

With a snarl Fenrir sprang to his feet, startling Delilah. He staggered a bit, surprised at just how sore his shoulder was. He must have pushed himself too hard. At least his head was starting to feel a bit better. He looked around searching for his bearings, and found he did not recognize anything.

 

“Delilah?” He needn't even ask her the question direct. With a sneeze she stood and set off at a jaunty pace, back the way they had come. Normally Fenrir would chase after her as a wolf, but for once, he didn't feel up to it. It was a strange, almost unnatural feeling to not want to be low to the ground, sniffing at everything.

 

Without paws the trek was a long one. Fenrir ambled after Delilah like a loyal pup, watching the sun pass overhead and begin it's dip, wondering whether or not Cally was growing worried about him. Thinking on Cally kept his mind off thinking about other matters, like nearly losing himself completely.

 _I'm no weak Wilds follower, unable to control my own transformations._ He didn't need some stuck-up Ancient to put a leash around his neck and teach him to roll over. He had perfect control. So shut up Hubris.

 

_'I heard that.'_

 

If not for that terrifying brush with savagery, and the fact that he stank of elkrin blood and guts and... whatever else – if not for those things it would've been a rather pleasant stroll in the forest. He had no fear of getting lost, for Delilah knew the way. The afternoon was cool and bright, and the forest full of rustlings that he would have happily chased after if he weren't so pressed for time. Even the company was pleasant, as Hubris was mercifully quiet all the way back, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the place.

 

They at last reached the stream where they had left Caladaer, just as the sun was setting. Fenrir crouched down to slack his thirst. While his back was turned, Delilah took the opportunity to push Fenrir into the stream, and she jumped in after him.

 

Fenrir laughed, and splashed the white wolf, who was in the process of trying to lick some of the muck off of him. She yelped, and tackled him into the water. The two of them wrestled in the stream, cleaning off the layers of dried blood and guts, and gaining a new layer of mud for their pains. Hubris laughed at the two of them.

 

Delilah eventually put an end to the play by hopping out of the stream, and dancing out of Fenrir's reach. The wolfkin straightened, and laughed at the sight of the dire, now streaked with brown mud. She shook, drenching him with more water, then lolled her tongue at him, as Fenrir scrambled out of the stream.

 

It was easy enough to locate the tracks of their traveling menagerie. A parade full of various creatures was not exactly the most subtle. They set off after them, as it began to grow dark.

 

It wasn't hard to know when they were getting close, hearing the grunts and chittering of the many pets of the Sealer. Fenrir gave Delilah a toothy grin, and gestured for her to follow him quietly. The white wolf cocked her head, sending a question his way. Fenrir shook his head, and put his finger to his lips.

 

Carefully, Fenrir slunk around the outside of the glade where Caladaer had set up camp. It wasn't hard to hide his presence with all the noise the various creatures were making. He ducked behind sleipnir, and ligers, who gave him curious looks, and inched his way toward the center of the clearing.

Peeking out from behind an elkrin rump he saw Caladaer sitting at a lonely campfire, stirring something in a pot. A flock of chillawings perched on his antlers and head, though he seemingly didn't mind. Vipen was likewise covered in rune dragons and otterlings, as he relaxed next to his master. The elvian looked like some peaceful forest prince in a fairy tale, attended to by his small furred subjects. The only thing that disturbed the illusion was when he reached for the pot and scorched his finger, and a string of obscenities flew from his lips. Evidently, Willy must have been giving the prince vocabulary lessons.

 

Biting down a sharp laugh, Fenrir settled down on his haunches. He crept forward silently – well not so silently, but the animals were making so much noise, it might as well have been silent. Once Cally was in range he gathered himself up, and launched himself forward.

 

“ _Pouncing Lesson!_ ” He collided with a solid _oof!_ and the two of them went sprawling in the dirt. Chillawings flew in all directions, chirping indignantly. Fenrir found himself pinning the deer prince to the ground with surprising ease. “Cally! You didn't dodge!”

 

The elvian blinked stunned green eyes up at his captor. Then the fog cleared as he recognized the wolfkin currently sitting on him. “Fenrir! What on Eld are you doing?”

 

The wolfkin gave him a toothy grin. “I figured you needed some help with your dodging skills, and I see that I was right. You're a terrible dodger. I'm surprised that nothing in this forest was able to catch you before I did.”

 

The elvian fidgeted, trying to escape. Finding he couldn't, he frowned up at the wolfkin. “Excuse me, but who was it got bitten by a Sandwyrm? I do believe that was a certain wolfkin failed to dodge that particular blow.”

 

“Ouch! It bites.” Fenrir leaned in closer, tail lashing eagerly. “Thing is, prince – I'm generally the dodger, and not the dodgee. I don't look like a tasty bit of hapless elvian dinner for some rogue liger.”

 

“I hardly need lessons dodging, Fenrir. Most things find it quite difficult to sneak up on elvians, you know.”

 

“Well I just did.”

 

Caladaer huffed. “I'm glad to see you're in good spirits at least, but a simple 'hello' would've sufficed. Now uh... do you think you could get off of me?”

 

Fenrir grinned, got up and flopped down on the nearest bed roll. The night was already taking on its chill, and the heat from the fire was quite welcome on his spent muscles.

 

Caladaer straightened, brushing leaves from his hair, and huffing like a disgruntled drake over a clutch of eggs. “How was your hunting?” he asked at last.

 

“Uh... good, good. I'll spare you the gory details.”

 

Hubris gave him a mental poke. _'Fenrir – you should tell him about -'_

 

 _'It was a little slip up. Why bother him when it'll never happen again?'_ The wolfkin stretched sore joints, tail curling and uncurling.

 

He could feel Hubris' concern. _'Cally's here to help us. If you don't tell him, I will.'_

 

 _'Don't you dare,'_ Fenrir snarled silently. _'Don't forget who's head you're inside. This is our problem Hubris. We can't go running to Cally every single time one of us sneezes. Asides – he's an elvian. Don't see what help he can offer in regards to control.'_

 

_'I don't think spirits can sneeze. But... I suppose I see your point. Very well. However, should it ever happen again,I think we should tell Cally.'_

 

_'Relax, would you? It's not going to happen again.'_


	3. Chapter 3

Silverport was just as Fenrir remembered it; damp, crowded, and stinking of brine, human sweat, and fish - a powerful concoction for a nose used to the arid deserts. The streets overflowed with members of the human race – sailors, tradesmen, and craftsmen of all variety, while underfoot dozens of different creatures scavenged off the offal piles of the fish markets, or else begged treats from the food sellers that lined the streets.

 

“Can see why the Sealer likes this place,” Fenrir muttered as a pair of sea servals leapt up underfoot and went streaking into an alley.

 

They had dropped off the Sealer's wandering menagerie at their homestead earlier, so the stares the merchants and shoppers gave them as they wandered the streets were probably on account of the oddity of the pair of them. Delilah trotted ahead of them, tail wagging gallantly, with Vipen trailing behind. The stag looked a little unnerved by the cobblestones under his hooves, and kept picking his legs up high and careful.

 

Hubris, for his part, sat back and drank it all in through Fenrir's eyes. Last time Fenrir was here, Hubris had been sleeping deep within him. Now Fenrir could feel the spirit's sense of curiosity and wonderment at this strange place, which was wholly new to him. _'So this is what those humans have been doing this whole time. Industrious little bugs, aren't they?'_ But for all he might insult them, he still showed great interest in the technologies that had grown up in his absence, exclaiming like a delighted child over the streetlamps tended by glasswork dragons, or the gutters that ran along the streets carrying away water and debris, or the existence of casement windows. _'They have glass windows – that_ open _. Will wonders never cease?'_

 

Cally chuckled when Fenrir related this latest exclamation. The elvian prince seemed remarkably cheered by the colorful atmosphere, eagerly pointing out his favorite shops and bakeries. And how could one not be cheered? Though the world might be falling apart, Silverport seemed naught to care. Charmers performed in the streets, hawkers cried their wares, and roving bands of sailors charged through the streets on the hunt for entertainment. Snippets of sailor songs floated through the streets – evidently a party was already in full swing, though the sun's disc had just barely kissed the horizon.

 

_It's like they're not even effected by the Curse,_ Fenrir thought.

 

_'And why should they be?'_ came Hubris' response, on the tail of his own thought. _'They have no magic to fear losing themselves to. But that doesn't mean the Curse can't penetrate, even here. Look closer. Don't you notice something?'_

 

Fenrir looked around, but the town seemed normal enough: Children playing in the streets, old folks exchanging gossip from their windows, sea servals chasing rune dragons off prize ledges.

 

_'There are no wolfkin anywhere. Not a single traveler or trader.'_

 

Fenrir was taken aback, and quickly went to look again, hoping to disprove the old leech. But no. Hubris was right. As they walked down the streets of the bustling city, he and Cally were the only trueborns to be seen. He felt a chill ripple through him. Avians and elvians were strange sights in these parts, but he couldn't recall a time when he hadn't seen at least one fellow wolfkin walking down Silverport's streets. Looking closer he now saw the furtive glances passersby gave him and Cally.

 

Delilah halted in front of him, and Fenrir nearly tripped over her. Jolted out of his thoughts, he realized that Caladaer had also stopped.

  
  “The Sealer brought me to this lovely little café once,” he was saying gesturing towards a small, brightly painted little shop. Tables and chairs sat outside, where lazy patrons drank and nibbled on their sweets. “They serve these marvelous little cream filled pastries. And they make these delicate little sugar flowers and put them on tiny cakes. You really must come and see -” Caladaer grabbed Fenrir's hand and gently tugged him into the café's courtyard.

 

As Cally reached for the door the patrons nearby threw him a look that Fenrir knew all too well. “Cally” – Fenrir started to stop him.

 

Before he could drag the elvian away, the door banged open, and a large man in a baker's apron came bustling out. He fussed with his hands nervously as he stood before the door, blocking their entry. “Sorry,” the man grumbled, looking upset and not meeting Fenrir's eyes. “Café's closing now.”

 

Fenrir's hackles rose, and he went to swipe Cally out of there, but the elvian prince just stood there dumb. “Oh.” He glanced at the people sitting at their tables. “Well, I just wanted to show my friend some of your pastries.”

 

“Got none.”

 

“Y-you have no pastries? Forgive me – aren't you a bakery?”

 

“Ran out of... flour,” the man said, fidgeting uncomfortably. Fenrir narrowed his eyes at him, and the man looked away, purposely staring between Caladaer's antlers. Delilah started growling.

 

“Oh.” Cally looked disheartened. He let his ears droop down. “Well, I was hoping to purchase some -”

 

The man was shaking his head, getting more and more agitated. One of the patrons from the nearby table spoke up. “Look – he said the place is closing so take your friend there and just  _ leave _ .” 

 

“No trouble, no trouble,” the baker was saying, raising his hands in a placating manner. “Meaning no offense, masters, we'd just sooner avoid any ruckus.”

 

The elvian shook his head, baffled by these words. He glanced between the outspoken patron and the baker. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand. Has offense been given?”

 

“If it hasn't, it sure as hell's about to be,” Fenrir growled. He'd grown used to such treatment as an a'taihin, but seeing it inflicted on Cally, brought out the old fury within him, one he thought was buried deep. He puffed himself up, eyes flashing dangerously. “This cheeky fishlicker's afraid of us.” He bared his teeth at the baker, who quailed, but didn't move aside.

 

“And s-so what if I am?” The man said haltingly. “Is that a crime, in these dark times? Why not leave me and mine to our fear and move on?”

 

“Lily-guts!” Fenrir snorted. “Did a jackalope run off with your sack or what?”The baker went pale and pursed his lips.

 

“Fenrir!” Caladaer exclaimed, flushing. He placed a hand on the wolfkin's chest, preventing him from advancing on the man.

 

Hubris rose up in him, chomping at the bit.  _ 'Don't insult him unless you mean to fight, Fenrir!'  _

 

_ 'Don't be ridiculous. This man couldn't land a punch on a lame slepinir.'  _ And indeed the baker seemed rather cowed by the insult, gaping like a stunned fish.

 

“I – I asked you to go.”

 

_ 'Poor little man.'  _ Hubris laughed. _ 'We could tear this little man to shreds so easily if we wished it...' _

 

Fenrir's fists clenched. Tearing to shreds might be a tad extreme, but the man was sorely asking for a good punch to the nose.

 

But then Fenrir felt Delilah's cool nose press into his fist. He cut his eyes to the right and noticed the patrons tense, and bristling like Needlebrand drakes.  _ 'We could take them all!' _ Hubris insisted. Fenrir shook his head, letting his growl die away. He flexed his fingers and fought to control his breathing.

 

He let out a breath. “Maybe I was mistaken.” All parties seemed to relax at this admission. Caladaer let his hand drop, and some of the customers returned their attentions to their pastries. “Clearly you never had any to begin with! ”

 

_'You're an idiot.'_

 

The next thing Fenrir heard was the crunch of a fist colliding with his skull. Next moment he realized with a jolt that he was laying on the ground, ears ringing, though he couldn't remember falling over.  _ He hit me. The damn yaldson actually hit me! _

 

The next thing he was aware of was Delilah licking his face. He reached up to grab her scruff – a sense of solidity in a reeling world. For a moment there, right before being struck, he had felt Hubris flare up within him, not as a spectator, but taking over his body, seizing control of his consciousness. As quickly as it came on, it had vanished, leaving Fenrir gasping.

 

“Stay off!” He snarled aloud at Hubris, as if speaking the command gave it more weight. Hubris was silent, his presence faded. _'What, no smart remark about how I should've hit him first?'_

 

There was n o response. His head was still ringing – he wondered if Hubris' was as well. He reached for the spirit and felt only distant confusion. As if he'd been knocked into some other part of Fenrir's brain, buried under memories.

 

Fenrir growled.  _ 'Fine, then you can just stay there, for all I care!' _ he thought at him angrily, but Hubris was beyond reach at this point – nothing more then a recent memory. It was almost scary how silent and empty his mind felt. Could Hubris not hear him at all? Or was he just sulking somewhere?

 

Fenrir struggled to sit up, head pounding. As his vision regained clarity, he found Vipen and Caladaer standing protectively over him. The elvian looked terrifying, his red hair glowing like fire in the twilight, his face a thunderhead as he stared down the trembling baker. Fenrir's heart gave a leap of unbidden excitement. Cally was no pushover as he'd once suspected – he'd give these upstarts a thrashing they rightly deserved, and as soon as his head stopped hurting he'd jump right in and they'd lay waste to the whole -

 

“I'm very sorry to have troubled you. It won't happen again. We'll be going now.”

 

Or... he'd just apologize – but Fenrir was certain it was delivered in a way that would make them all feel like terrible, terrible people.  _ You tell 'em habi'b! I think I'm going to be sick.  _ Fenrir grabbed Delilah as a wave of nausea from sitting up too fast assailed him. Delilah told him to lay back down, but he pretended not to hear her. She snorted at him, exasperated.

 

“You keep a tight leash on that one, or he's libel to get himself killed!” The baker hopped from foot to foot like a high strung sleipnir, rubbing his hands incessantly now. He looked like an overanxious crab.

 

“Yes sir. We're both of us very sorry. We are just tired from our long journey.”

 

Caladaer stooped beside Fenrir, wrapped an arm around him, and dragged the wolfkin upright with a large effort. The baker quickly retreated inside. The customers shrank away and eyed the trueborns like angry alley servals. As soon as his feet were under him, Fenrir shoved himself off the elvian and tottered forward, Cally hovering at his side like a worried gnat. “Are you alright?” The elvian asked, voice soft.

 

“Just rosy.”

 

Delilah growled, and they looked over to see the patrons getting agitated, shouting and gesturing at them.

 

Caladaer and Vipen had to firmly push Fenrir out of the courtyard while he yelled, “So's your old mother!”

 

Once out of earshot, Fenrir slumped against Cally's side. “Always get the last word in Cally. Always.”

 

“I shall try to remember.” The elvian grunted, as Fenrir leaned into him more heavily then was needed. Fenrir took the opportunity to snake his arm around Caladaer's waist.“This is not the Silverport I left,” he muttered. “It's like the whole world's gone -”

 

“To Oblivion.”

 

“I was going to say 'mad', but I suppose that is just as accurate. Still, I don't understand. It's not as if we're under the Curse.”

 

With a shaky breath Fenrir found his feet, and pushed away from Cally. “They're frightened habi'b. Fear makes them stupid. A frightened man would turn on his own brother without a thought.”  _ I've seen it myself all too often. _

 

Cally turned deeply thoughtful at this, his hand reaching up to finger the brooch of his cloak. Fenrir didn't pay it much mind as they trudged down the street to the sea.

 

~

 

The birdfamily home looked about the same as all the other houses on the street, save for one thing.

 

“Aye, that's the old crow's nest, alright.” Fenrir eyed the fine lacquer of white... stuff, on the roof.

 

“Willy said he was going to clean it. I suppose Azara still has command over the attic,” Cally admitted. As they walked toward the house, a crow fluttered up and perched on the roof, cawing out it's innate dominance over the world – which indeed it had. When all was said and done, most folks found themselves inside a crow's belly in some form or another. It was just a matter of watching and waiting.

 

Cally knocked gently at the door. No sooner had he stepped aside then the door was flung open, and a large burgundy mass topped with flame assaulted them with an ear-splitting bellow. _**“Welcome home, Kiddo!”**_

 

Fenrir snickered. “I think that's the nicest welcome I've ever gotten from you, trout.”

 

Willy nearly toppled over in surprise. “Scruffles! I didn't expect ye to come a-calling.” The red-haired pirate looked a bit put out, but his beaming smile returned on sight of Caladaer. “Cally! Glad to see you made it back in one piece. Fenrir's other dinner guests can't often say as much.”

 

Fenrir let out a puff of air. “This one didn't get on my nerves so much.”

 

“Well, that's a relief. I admit – I thought ye were gonna get chewed up and spit clean out of that desert Cally. Instead it looks like Fenny's the one's caught the sunrise.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Yer face looks like it started growing plums.”

 

“What?!” Fenrir reached up to touch his face and found it swollen and painful to the touch.

 

“It's not that bad,” Cally insisted.

 

Willy whistled. “Wouldn't want to see what ye call 'bad', m'buck.” Before Fenrir could deliver a retort, Willy stepped to one side, making a sweeping gesture of welcome. “But if anyone can fix up that pretty mug of yours, it'd be our Cally. Where's the Sealer? Catch sight of that new shipment of ligers, eh?”

 

“You didn't get word?” Cally asked, as he helped Fenrir inside. The wolfkin flushed and tried to shoo the elvian off of helping him.

 

There was a loud clattering sound from behind, making Caladaer jump. He spun around. “Vipen! You can't come in the doorway – your antlers!” The elkrin shook his shaggy head. Fenrir might've laughed to see the abashed elkrin, who looked around as if to ask, 'who put this thing here?'

 

“If your beastie wanted to trot round the back, there's a fine patch of clover growing by the back wall, Cally.”

 

“Go on, Vipen. I'll be with you soon.” Vipen snorted, and retreated toward the back of the house. Delilah bared her teeth in a grin, and squeezed her way through the door frame before Willy closed it.

 

“Well!” The pirate spun to blast Fenrir with the full force of his infamous crooked smile. “Won't this be a surprise for Sorren!” Willy, being Willy, had no concept of an 'inside voice'. It boomed through the whole house, and it came as no real surprise when a voice drawled from the other room: “Oh Mother of Crows, not another surprise, Will.”

 

Fenrir couldn't keep his tail from wagging at the voice. It had been too long since he'd seen Sorren, and even longer since he'd been invited to one of the halfborn's fantastic home cooked meals. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed the old bird, and his friendly scolding.

 

“You'll like this one, this time!” Willy yelled toward the kitchen as a face emerged to survey the scene.

 

The face suddenly paled at the sight of the two visitors. “Oh Glitch, no.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I was afraid of this,” Sorren muttered as he opened the ice box. Fenrir and Cally had quickly summarized the events that had transpired at the temple, as the dark haired man had shuffled them into the kitchen and seated them at the large wooden table. Now Fenrir was picking curiously at a knot in the wood, as Sorren bustling about in an to cobble together a meal for three extra mouths.

 

“You mean ye knew about the temple being destroyed, and the wolfkin in the deserts losing their protection from the Curse, and Fenny getting his head muddled with by some ancient spirit wolf, and the Sealer running off on some harebrained scheme to a monastery in the middle of nowhere?”

 

Sorren turned to fix Willy with an exasperated look. “Do I look like the Ancient of Fate? No Will. I meant the Watch Crows contacting the Sealer.” Fenrir leaned to the side to study Sorren's face as the halfborn returned his attention to the ice box. A small family of ice rune dragons were roosting on the top shelf. As he reached in one of them took a playful snap at his fingers.

 

“Oh that. Well, I'm sure Pops knows what he's doing.”

 

“Pops?” Caladaer looked confused.

 

“Master Thanatos.” Willy eyed the bowl of rolls Sorren had dragged out in preparation for their impromptu dinner. He hungrily reached out for one and was treated to a sharp rap on his knuckles from Sorren's wooden spoon.

“It's not him I'm worried about.” Sorren seemed unmoved as Willy sunk back in his seat to nurse his stinging knuckles. The halfborn closed the icebox with his hip. He laid a plate in front of Fenrir.“Here, Fenrir, this'll help.” Looking at it, Fenrir saw it was a frozen hunk of meat. The wolfkin sniffed at it, as Sorren went back to the half a roast he was trying to stretch into a four meals. Delilah sat at the end of the counter watching him work, forcing Sorren to squeeze past her as he worked.

 

“Who is this Master Thanatos?” Cally asked.

 

Fenrir was only half paying attention. He was too busy smirking. He'd been quick to notice that the pretty halfborn had given him the gift of meat, instead of Willy. Though he was a bit curious as to why it was frozen. He enjoyed a hunk of raw meat as much as the next wolfkin, but.. frozen? Must be a weird Silverport custom. He looked up at Sorren for guidance on how to go about eating it, but the halfborn was answering Caladaer.

 

“Master Thanatos was my – well, really our mentor. He is indeed who he says he is. A Master of the Watch Crows.”

 

“One o' the few good 'uns',” Willy muttered.

 

Sorren ignored him. “I had hoped to keep the Sealer out of real Watch Crow work for as long as possible. They're only an apprentice after all. I've hardly had any opportunity to train them. Should something occur -”

 

“You trained them up good as you could, mama bird!” Willy boomed.

 

Sorren froze like a hawk on a jackalope. His voice was low and dangerous, sending a thrill up Fenrir's spine. “Will, if you call me that again. I will break your fingers.”

 

The pirate let out an audible gasp of feigned fear. “But without my fingers how will I ever work my magic again?”

 

“Magic?” Cally looked intently curious. “I thought you didn't have any magic Willy.”

 

“ _Will..._!” Sorren hissed, brandishing the spoon.

 

Fenrir poked at his steak.

 

The pirate laughed, big and booming, and wiggled his fingers at Sorren. “Shadow puppets!” With that he sprang up from his seat and wrapped an arm around Sorren's waist. Drawing the halfborn close, he wheeled him around. “You do so like my shadow puppets, don't you Sorren? You'd be upset if I couldn't put on my shadow puppet show.”

 

The halfborn sighed, a sound that spoke of utter exasperation over the affection he felt for the man. “Yes, Willy,” he admitted. His voice sounded defeated, but the barest of smiles fluttered across his features.

 

“Are these fingers not the most graceful, the most nimble, the most talented to ever coax beauty from the darkness, Sorren?” The pirate reached out to tickle Sorren's cheek, and the halfborn's patient smile broke into a red-faced glare. A Sorren blush was a rare and wonderful sight to see, and Willy laughed again.

 

Fenrir made a gagging gesture to Cally. The elvian's hand flew to his mouth as he tried to stifle a laugh and ended up snorting softly. He'd never heard that sound come from Caladaer before. The wolfkin let out a bark of laughter.

 

Sorren seemed more amused by the ongoing antics then outright annoyed. “That's enough, Will.” He gently pried the pirate's hands off of him, and turned back to his cooking.

 

“Aye. Nimble fingers,” Willy muttered as he plucked a roll from the bowl behind Sorren's back. “It's how one makes a living.” He popped the roll into his mouth, and flopped back into his seat. He smiled in triumph all around, oblivious to the fact that Sorren's crow Muzu had been watching the entire exchange with interest from the back of Sorren's chair. He blinked glowing blue eyes at the pirate. Neither the bird nor it's halfborn master reacted – one of them must have decided Willy deserved to win this once.

 

As alpha Fenrir wouldn't stand to be the second to eat. He picked up the frozen steak and sank his fangs into it.

 

Caladaer smiled. “But to the matter at hand – uh... Fenrir...”

 

Fenrir looked up to see Caladaer and the others staring at him. He gnawed at the unyielding icy flesh. It wasn't so bad actually. Kind of like a meat flavored icicle. Sorren cleared his throat loudly. “Fenrir – the steak is for your eye.”

 

The wolfkin gave the pretty halfborn a placating smile. _Sure it is, Sorren._ Silverport sure had some strange superstitions. Caladaer reached over and picked up the hunk of meat in his delicate fingers. He gently pressed it to Fenrir's swollen eye, and bid him to hold it there. “How is this going to help?”

 

“It's to help the swelling go down,” Caladaer explained.

 

“Seems like a waste of good meat.” But the wolfkin obeyed without fuss, holding the cold, wet flesh to his face.

 

“As I was saying. The Sealer. Are they in any danger?”

 

Sorren and Willy exchanged glances. The red haired pirate shrugged his large shoulders. “Better question: is the Sealer ever _not_ in danger?”

 

The halfborn shook his head. “I suppose we'll just have to trust Master Thanatos' judgment in this matter.”

 

“If Pops doesn't bring the kid back in one piece, we'll have far worse then Oblivion on our hands,” Willy whispered to the guests. “Momma bird doesn't like it when the nestling's out on their own.”

 

Sorren's shoulder stiffened at this – Willy's whisper not being much of a whisper – but he ignored it. The halfborn stepped around Delilah to fetch the salt and pepper shakers. He sighed as he overturned the pepper and four grains came tumbling out. “I'm afraid we're all out of pepper.”

 

That made Fenrir look up in surprise. Sorren wasn't one to let his pantry go empty. Willy jumped to his companion's defense. “Don't worry about that Sorren! No one likes pepper anyway.”

 

Fenrir snorted.

 

“No one important likes pepper anyway.”

 

Sorren was shaking his head. He brought the cold roast to the table, and began to carve slices off. Fenrir's mouth watered at the sight of that delicious not-frozen meat, and his stomach growled. No need for pepper as far as he was concerned. His tongue unconsciously flicked out to lick at his makeshift compress.

 

The halfborn still looked surly about it. “Spices have been near impossible to come by nowadays. At least, at reasonable prices.”

 

“What's happened to Silverport?” Caladaer asked. “It wasn't like this when I left.”

 

Willy turned alarmingly sober in that instant. “Some of the local wolfkin were afflicted with the curse. A fortnight hence...” here he looked askance at Fenrir, “... a wolfkin trader went crazy, turned into a giant wolf, and ran through the streets. It was chaos. No one knew what was happening. They formed a mob to run the creature off, but not before the beast killed a woman and several dire wolves. Tore her to shreds. Heard it was pretty gruesome.” He stuck a fork into a piece of roast, and plunged it into his mouth. He continued from around the piece of meat. “They lit bonfires in all the streets to drive it out. Almost set half the town on fire. They drove it out the town toward the sea, and then they lost it. Poor bastard probably ran off the cliffs and broke his neck.”

 

Willy let that depressing thought hang in the air. Fenrir looked down at the plate of cold roast Sorren had set before him, suddenly feeling his appetite drain away. _Tore her to shreds._

 

Willy swallowed. “Town's been prickly as a Balloon Rune in a pin factory ever since. The trueborn traders have all left. The port even barred the local wolfkin packs from setting up camp on the outskirts. Ships cargoes being searched. The local trueborns are all gone to ground. There's a hardly a human trader will do business with them.”

 

Caladaer bit his lip.“How... terrible... That explains rather a lot though.” He looked up suddenly at the halfborn. “Sorren – you -” The halfborn waved off his concern.

 

“It's an understandable reaction. I don't hold it against anyone. I can't. There is far too much at stake to risk the consequences of getting angry or frustrated.”

 

“Well, doesn't mean I can't get angry for ye!” Willy growled.

 

“Will – we don't want a repeat of the fish market.” Sorren patted the other's hand reassuringly before laying a steaming bowl of mashed turnips before the pirate's nose. The scent elicited a hum of delight, and Willy eagerly scooped a healthy portion onto his plate. Sorren looked up at their guests and explained. “Fish everywhere. Couldn't get the smell out of my clothes for a week. Servals kept tearing down the laundry off the line.”

 

The elvian looked thoughtful, as Sorren laid a plate of greens in front of him.“It explains our encounter at the café.” Caladaer told them what had transpired. At first Sorren and Willy looked worried, but Willy's face slowly broke into a broad grin, before bursting out laughing.

 

“Didn't think you'd go down that easy Scruffles! One punch is all it takes, huh?”

 

Fenrir bared teeth in a grin. “You wanna test that theory, bucko?”

 

Before a challenge could be offered, a supple pink form leapt onto the table, nimbly twisting between the plates of food. Fenrir saw Delilah's ears perk at the appearance of her old foe, black lips drawing back in a toothy grin. The serval favored the dire with a slow, unimpressed blink.

 

Sorren placed the last dish on the table, and dried his hands with a kitchen towel. With a sigh he took his place and picked up a fork. “How was your journey back?” he asked to distract from the sudden tension in the room.

 

Fenrir and Caladaer dove into an explanation of their experiences, as they all four descended on the food. How they'd taken the Sealer's pets to their homestead and given their charges to the dour man there. How two of the Chillawings had stowed away in Cally's saddlebag and they had to go back to the homestead, then onwards to Silverport, and into the scuffle at the café.

 

“Say Fenny, what did you say that one time? About how a human could never land a blow on a wolfkin?” Fenrir drew back on his spoon and launched a glob of pease at Willy's head, who dodged.

 

Caladaer startled up from his salad, blinking around like an elkrin in lantern light. “Fenrir!” He hissed. “These our hosts! You shouldn't -” Willy proceeded to fling a spoonful of turnips Fenrir's way. The wolfkin ducked, and Delilah caught the morsel in her open mouth and smacked her lips.

 

Caladaer looked slightly distressed. Sorren just shrugged, and began to eat as delicately as a bird. “So how long will you be with us, Fenrir?”

 

Distracted from his sparring with Willy, Fenrir left his catapult half full, and glanced at the halfborn. “Long as I'm welcome -”

 

“Well, that won't be long.” The wolfkin's eyes flashed at Willy, who gave him a sweet smile.

 

“Cally wants to monitor my progress with Hubris.”

 

“How is Hubris now?” Caladaer asked, as he piled his plate with more vegetative vittles. “Seems he's been surprisingly placid.”

 

“Hmm?” Fenrir looked up from a mouthful of roast.

 

“You haven't had that blank expression on your face for a few hours now.”

The wolfkin stared at him blankly.

 

“Dunno. He hasn't made himself known since I was knocked on my tail.” The elvian's face pinched with concern at this, but Fenrir shrugged it off. He was glad for the privacy. So many thoughts to relish in – so many jeers to try out without admonishment – a chance to fully be himself.

 

He grinned and leaned closer to the halfborn.“Speaking of getting knocked on your tail - Sorren do you still enjoy a good tussle?” The halfborn cut his two-toned eyes to Fenrir, gaze flinty. Fenrir ignored the obvious warning.“You know you're still the only one I know can dodge any of my attacks. Can you still, I wonder?”

 

Willy's face twisted into a grimace.

 

Sorren, sensing a scuffle brewing, swooped in to break up the tension. “Fenrir, seeing as the Sealer's gone, you're more then welcome to the use of their room.” Sorren beckoned for the wolfkin to follow him. Fenrir wolfed down a few last bites of roast, before dumping his plate's contents onto the ground for Delilah. The halfborn looked less then pleased at this, but said nothing as he led Fenrir out of the room.

 

“You know Sorren, you and me could go out for a bit of late-night hunting.” Fenrir offered. “It's been too long, since we've done that. Don't worry – if you go too far in your demon-bird form I can hold you back.”

 

Sorren's hand paused on the door handle, as if he might be considering. “No thank you, Fenrir. I don't hunt that kind of prey any longer.” His voice was final, but Fenrir knew better then to believe him. Sorren was more like him than the halfborn liked to admit. Sorren might act in control of himself at all times, but Fenrir knew he needed as much opportunity to run wild as he did.

 

Sorren opened the the door without further comment, and glanced in. Fenrir looked over his shoulder. The room was a mess of Snafu proportions. Dirty pawprints crossed the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. There were feathers stuck everywhere – _must be what Sorren's room looks like during a molt –_ and clumps of fur skittered across the floor like frightened Dust Bunny Runes. One of them might have been an actual rune – Fenrir could've sworn it had an eye. The walls were covered in papers depicting illustrations of every creature imaginable, carefully arranged by date. Overheard came the sound of something scuffling across the ceiling. Something under the desk was glowing. Plushies had overrun the bed and declared it an independent country. On the far side of the room the window stood open, and a large liger lay on his back beneath it, snoring away loudly.

 

Sorren sighed. He closed the door with a snap. “I keep telling them to close that window.”

 

“You're welcome to share the greenhouse with me and Vipen,” Caladaer offered, upon hearing the state of the Sealer's room. “I want to show you the gardens anyway.” Fenrir hid his disappointment behind a grin. Much as he enjoyed the idea of sharing house with Caladaer, he dreaded the thought of being pestered constantly about Hubris this, and Hubris that. A bit of time with someone who hadn't been rooting around in his head would've been nice. But Caladaer had been so eager to invite him back to his place for so long, and how could a wolfkin say no to those big, green, heart-melting eyes?

 

Caladaer seemed espcially cheerful as he led Fenrir, hauling the heavy duvet cover and the pillows Sorren had piled him with. Their fresh, clean scent scratched at his nose. Delilah tagged behind, collecting the pillows that Fenrir kept dropping in her mouth.

 

“I've always wanted to have a 'sleepover'. Willy tells me they're a wonderful human tradition, where friends share their sleeping quarters and hit each other with pillows, and eat pancakes with syrup and play... backgammon, I think he said? Don't know what he meant by that.”

 

“Willy talks too much.”

 

Vipen looked up from his clover patch. With a toss of his head he trotted over to join them. Cally was chatting away about varieties of parasitic orchids, as Fenrir tried to prevent the stack of bedding from toppling over. The elvian pulled a key out, and unlocked the door. “Don't want the local jackalopes getting in and eating everything in sight,” he explained.

 

The humidity inside the place struck like a fat blow to the face. The perfume of flowers hung heavy in the air, thick and stifling. Bright magenta and purple flowers dripped off woody branches overhead, while delicate, tiny yellow flowers were splattered across the scene, like paint dabs from an artist's brush. Thick, red-trunked trees stretched upwards, like pillars supporting the glass ceiling. Verdant fronds hung heavy with condensation all along the paths. It was as if Caladaer had picked up a piece of jungle and plopped it into the cold, damp heart of Silverport. It even hummed with the buzz of jungle life; humming bumbles and glasswork dragons zipped too and fro, sipping nectar, and watering the plants.

 

Fenrir cocked his head at the sight. “Humming bumbles and glassworks? How'd you ever manage to get those two to get along?” The species natural dislike of each other was as well known as oil's aversion to water.

 

Caladaer smiled as a humming bumble came to hover before him, zipping up to peck inquisitively at the golden half moon he wore in his antlers. “Even natural enemies can get along when working to a greater goal. The garden needs tending - without it, neither would have a home.” There was a sudden shrieking and they looked around to see a glasswork loudly telling off a humming bumble. The little bird fluttered backwards, sticking its tongue out at the glasswork before darting away. “Well,” Cally admitted with a shrug, “a few arguments are to be expected.”

 

The elvian led him down a winding path choked with green, past a pond full of tiny multicolored cuttlefish. “What's that?” Fenrir pointed with his nose at a little wooden structure sitting on the lip of the pond.

 

“That? That's a Fairy House Rune.” Fenrir looked closer, and saw that it was indeed a rune, but sitting so still it might have been a wooden carving. Half a dozen glassworks fluttered in and out of the tiny windows and doors that dotted the creature's flanks.

 

_Ick... Having to share your body with all those creatures... crawling all inside your head and – oh wait._

 

Caladaer led them on, under a mossy bough and into another section of the greenhouse. This one was filled with woody desert plants and cacti, many of which Fenrir recognized. Most of the plants were nameless to him, but the deer prince had carefully written out their titles on tiny placards. A slight stab of homesickness twisted his heart seeing the plants of his homeland so out of place, and yet flourishing under Caladaer's careful tending.

 

The elvian now showed the same care in his removal of something from his pack. It was the rose, Fenrir had given him all those weeks ago, wrapped in a soft white handkerchief. Fenrir wondered how Cally had managed to keep his handkerchief so spotless on the road. “Could you get me that pot over there?” the elvian gestured in a random direction – he had eyes only for the flower he was gently unwrapping.

 

Fenrir looked around. He was still clutching the duvet and pillows. He held them out and dumped the pile onto Delilah, walked over to the nearest empty pot and brought it to Cally. The prince murmured his thanks without looking up, eyes still glued to the rose.

 

The wolfkin stood back, tail still with agitation. He watched as the elvian very carefully transferred it to the pot, filling it with dark, fragrant soil. He patted it in around the rose's base.

 

“You realize it's immortal, right? You could throw it in a pot of boiling water and it'd thrive.”

 

“Yes. I know.” Cally didn't look up from the flower.

 

Fenrir pouted. His poor, battered self felt in far more need of Cally's tender attentions then that silly posy.

 

 _Am I really being jealous of a flower?_ That was his own inner monologue asking him that. He watched Cally stroke the soft downy petals, and whisper softly “Aren't you lovely?” Fenrir's inner monologue decided it was.

 

Caladaer drenched the soil in water with a small watering can. He didn't stop watering it even after it was soaked, chatting away at the golden plant all the while as if it were an old friend. Fenrir watched him, but as soon as Caladaer started telling the flower about their adventures getting here, he began to feel a bit concerned.

 

 _Think Cally might've had a bit too much... sun.... either that or I'm locked in a greenhouse with a crazy person who talks to plants._ Slowly he backed out of the room. “I'll just... leave you two alone.”

 

The wolfkin wandered off, leaving Cally to his work. It was like a maze in the greenhouse, and Fenrir soon found himself pleasantly lost, with only his own thoughts for company. It was peaceful, having a mind so still and calm. It had been too long that he bore the burden of protecting Hubris' temple. Having it destroyed felt almost like a blessing. He immediately sobered after that indulgent thought. Because of his failure that wolfkin had gone mad, and killed innocents.

 

Every corner he turned brought him upon something new – flowers that looked like rune dragons; fountains with liger heads, some still in disrepair; shaded nooks with iron benches made to look like twisted vines; enormous glowing fungi under a tunnel of roots; bunches of fruits and those accursed vegetable things that were the size of his head. It was grown dark outside, but inside the greenhouse, lantern glassworks fluttered overhead, lighting the path.

 

As he wandered Fenrir's eye was taken in by a flicker of movement. He bent to study what appeared to be two toothed leaves clamped tight around a hapless beetle. The wolfkin cocked his head, ears perked, studying the leaves around it, all of which were open to the air. He thought the closed one looked to be grinning a wicked grin while the beetle flailed between it's teeth. He was reaching out to tap it to see if he could dislodge the beetle, when Caladaer appeared at his side.

“They're called fly trappers.”

 

“Glitches! Cally! Don't sneak up on me.”

 

The elvian smiled. “Did I frightened the big bad wolfkin?” Before Fenrir could respond, the elvian laughed his bell-like laugh. “Some people call them 'wolves teeth'. They lie in wait for their prey, and when an insect lands on them-” he reached out to brush a finger along the leaves' teeth. He pulled his hand away in a flash as the leaves snapped together and tightened.

 

Fenrir blinked in confusion. “Why's it do that?”

 

“It eats them.”

 

“ _Eats_ them? It's a _plant_!”

 

“Plants can be full of surprises.”

 

“I'll say...” But Fenrir was watching Cally as he said this. The wolfkin reached out to run a finger through first one, then another of the fly trappers, delighted at the movement of something that, by all accounts, shouldn't be moving at all. He grinned as widely as the wicked toothed leaves.

 

“Plants that catch prey – _pfft!_ Now I've seen everything.”

 

“Maybe not everything,” Cally said. “Are you tired? I can show you where you can put those blankets.”

 

“Uh...” Fenrir looked down to see Delilah. She rapped her tail on the stone path, a feather stuck to her lip, and not a pillow in sight. “That'd be perfect.”

 

Fenrir followed after Caladaer to a large shed. 'Shed' might have been an understatement, as it resembled more of a comfortable little cottage, complete with window boxes overflowing with tiny blue flowers.

 

Inside were rows of shelves full of pots and gardening tools. Hooks full of shovels and rakes were carefully organized along the back wall. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished – a single cot, a small table, a single chair, a lantern, and a washbasin were all in the way of furniture. One shelf, sitting above the cot was home to a host of plushies.

 

“You may use the cot, Fenrir. I'll sleep on the floor. Apparently there is another cot in the attic, but... well...”

 

“Azara?” Fenrir had heard many a tale of the fierce rune dragon who had claimed their attic from the Sealer and Caladaer on their journey home. “I don't want to take your bed.”

 

“Oh no please! You're my guest! I'll fetch my bedroll – it'll be quiet comfortable. Fun even! And we can throw pillows! Where are the pillows?”

 

“Well, never mind. I'm afraid I don't have any pancakes though. Or know anything about backgammon. I could ask Willy -”

 

“No! No – it's fine.” Fenrir grabbed at Caladaer before he could rush back to house and have his sleep-over ruined by any more of the pirate's suggestions.

 

Caladaer went to turn down the bed, pulled back the covers and revealed an otterling sprawled on the cot. It chattered at them casually, before sliding off the bed and touching his nose to Delilah.

 

“That's one of the Sealer's finds – an ice otterling. He helps with the humidity in here.” The otterling brushed against Fenrir's ankles and the wolfkin felt a wave of cool, as if he'd just plunged into a desert oasis.

 

Caladaer fetched a bowl from a shelf and filled it with water, which he put down for the Ice Otterling and Delilah. The seadog and the desert wolf exchanged curious sniffs, Delilah's tail low and wagging, as if undecided if she should chase or befriend the chilly creature.

 

“Make yourself at home. I need to tuck Vipen in.” Caladaer closed the door gently behind him.

 

With a huff, Fenrir dropped onto the bed. Delilah came over, and he took her head in his hands, gazing into her soft yellow eyes. He rummaged in his scarf and drew out the plushie Caladaer had given him. He pat it's nose, before placing it on the pillow. Delilah nosed the plushie and pushed it over.

 

Delilah told him it was time for sleep. “I'm not tired.” Delilah cocked her head – a disbelieving look on her face. “Alright – so I am, but I don't want to sleep.”

 

Delilah wuffed, and turned away. Fenrir watched as she circled a spot and settled down. The otterling scrambled up onto the chair and flopped down, ready for another nap.

 

The wolfkin heaved a sigh, lying his head down on the cot's pillow, still cold from the otterling. He'd wait until Cally returned – they could talk until they fell asleep like they had on their journey. The sheets smelled of Caladaer mixed with otterling fur, and Fenrir buried his nose in the pillow, drinking in the exotic scent. He had barely any time to enjoy it, before he drifted off to sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

He often dreamt of running.

 

Endless waves of gold spread out before him – scents of the desert rushed past his nose. A rumbling behind him made him aware of being chased. But his limbs were strong and he felt no fear of capture, only the exhilaration of the race. The ground was eaten up in great chunks under his pounding paws, carrying him over the distance with ease.

 

The Sandwyrm roared in frustration as the dark wolfkin outpaced her. Fenrir could've laughed in the joy of running if his tongue weren't lolling out of his mouth. The desert sands spread out before him, lonely and bare, and all his. He was king of wherever his paws took him.

 

But even kings lose their footing.

 

He was skidding, flailing, and then – he was falling. Falling down a dark pit, stomach dropping away as he plummeted.

 

He landed with a jolt that felt more mental then physical. As if he had woken up. Perhaps... he was awake, his brain still foggy with sleep, the urgency to run was still there.

 

_Get up_ – it said. Sensible enough. He pushed himself up – fell down, and tried again. He looked blearily at the walls around him. _Now run!_ \- it said. _Run and keep running!_

 

He ran.

 

There was no time to question the voices. He burst out of the door and ran, pushing past thornbushes. The thorns caught at his fur, dragged at him, tore open his sides. Their scratching felt oddly familiar but he couldn't remember from where. _Focus Fenrir! They'll kill you!_

 

He obeyed without question. Their hot breath was at his back already, flames licking at his skin. The scars of his tattoos seemed to catch fire, the flames eating him from the inside out. Every muscle burned as he pushed himself to go faster, to escape the flames and the shouts, and the screams, of the siege behind him. The howls of wolfkin on the hunt seemed closer then he remembered.

 

_Run! Faster now! Don't look back! Run Fenrir!_ Their voices cried out, as loud in his ear as if they stood upon it. _Run!_ He did as they said, feeling as small as a pup in an endless desert he didn't recognize. He desperately cast around for Delilah to lead him out of there, but the white wolf was no where to be seen. He ran onwards, calling out for her, his voice sounding small and scratchy in his ears. He couldn't see where he was going. All he knew was he must run away from the sounds of his chasers.

 

In his blind panic he slowly became aware of another figure running alongside him – a huge wolf he had never seen before, so just black he appeared as part of the shadows, eating up all the light around him.

 

“Come away” the wolf cried. “Stop and listen!”

 

But Fenrir knew better then to listen. He feigned right, then darted under the great wolf's nose, putting on a burst of speed. He didn't even feel tired – he felt almost giddy on terror.

 

_Run, run, run,_ he panted.

 

_Run, run, run,_ his feet pounded out.

 

_Run, run, run,_ his heart pumped.

 

The drumbeat of his gallop sung in ever fiber of his body, driving him onwards, obliterating all thought, all feeling. There was only the bite of cold in his legs, and the heat of muscles strained past their limits, and the desperation of a wild animal trying to escape it's pursuers.

 

“ _Fenrir stop!_ ”

 

The voice shook the ground. He was startled out of his rhythm and stumbled.

 

That was all it took. The shadow of the great black wolf descended upon him like a sudden thunderstorm blotting out the sun – was there even a sun? The wolf's maw opened onto a void, lunged forward and consumed him whole, snuffing him out like a candleflame.

 

Fenrir jerked awake. The clarity of wakefulness snapped back so suddenly he felt himself reeling.

 

_'Welcome back to the land of the living.'_

 

Fenrir struggled for a few moments to find where that sardonic voice was coming from. Realizing it's source, he groaned and buried his face in the pillow. ' _If it isn't Mister Bad Dreams himself. Did you get tired of rooting around in my memories?'_

 

Hubris was silent for a moment, but Fenrir could feel him there, like a sore tooth.

 

At last Hubris said, _'No thanks to your getting your head smashed in. I apologize for waking you up so rudely, but you were so diregone stubborn about accessing that memory. That blow quite literally knocked me back into last century.'_ Hubris gave a harsh laugh, but there didn't seem much joy in it. The sound reverberated in Fenrir's skull like a gong, and he winced.

 

_'Yeah, well next time try attaching yourself to something more pleasant.'_

 

_'It's not as if I had a choice in the matter.'_ Suddenly Hubris turned sober. _'But you need rest. That was a nasty blow – nothing too serious this time, but I would prefer you avoid you knocking my home about. I just got finished tidying up in here.'_

 

“No promises”.Fenrir growled softly into his pillow.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Fenrir felt a jolt run down his spine, and even Hubris radiated a split second of shock. He had thought they were alone.

 

Glancing over the edge of the cot, Fenrir's chest suddenly felt tight. Caladaer was there, curled up in his bed roll, with the ice otterling snoring on his chest. He watched the creature rise and fall with Cally's slow breathing. Even asleep he managed to look quite elegant – not an easy feat, especially when sleeping on the floor.

 

_'I don't think he would appreciate you staring at him while he sleeps.'_

 

Fenrir rolled over. _'I wasn't staring at him. Anyway, he's asleep – it's not like he cares.'_

 

As Fenrir shifted to go back to sleep the dire plushie Cally had gave him fell off the bed. He tensed suddenly as it bounced off the otterling and rolled onto the floor. “Dammit!” he hissed. Caladaer turned over and pulled the ice otterling into an embrace. Fenrir couldn't resist a small smile.

 

_'They say watching a sleeper makes them dream of you.'_ Hubris said.

 

_'Really?'_

 

_'Pfft! No, it just makes you a creep.'_

 

Fenrir suppressed a groan. _'I did not miss you at all.'_

 

_'Hahahaha!'_

 

Throwing back the covers Fenrir carefully stepped over the sleeping deer prince to retrieve his toy. He glanced up to see Delilah looking at him fondly from her place curled up on a tattered rug. Hugging the soft plush tightly he flopped next to her and told her of the dream. The dire listened carefully, and licked at his ears until he at last fell asleep again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The world might be falling to Oblivion around them, but inside the greenhouse, peace and tranquility still reigned. Time seemed to stand still inside it's glass walls, locked in a perpetual spring, while outside the leaves took on their fall dress. For the next few days Fenrir and Delilah rarely found reason to leave it except to join Sorren and Willy for meals. Despite the hospitality, Fenrir couldn't help but feel restless. His wolf form needed a place to stretch it's legs, as did Delilah.  


“If I eat one more of these pancakes, I'm going to turn into one.” Fenrir growled, and pushed away his plate. At first, Fenrir had enjoyed the sweet flat cakes Sorren was always making, fascinated by all the different toppings one could put on them. He was partial to topping his with copious amounts of bacon. But even more fascinating was where Willy managed to put them all. Fenrir had eaten three and a half and already felt like he'd have to be rolled from the table. The pirate was already on his fifth and showed no signs of slowing down.

 

Willy mumbled from around a mouthful of pancake and syrup.  


“What?”

 

Willy swallowed. “I said, 'does that mean you won't be finishing that?'” He angled his fork for the last pancake on Fenrir's plate. The wolfkin quickly darted out with his own fork and speared the flat cake, pulling it out of Willy's reach. Their forks clattered against each other, fighting for control of the pancake. Fenrir finally wrestled it free.

 

He yelled “ah ha!” in triumph, as he flipped it up – and watched it go flying over his shoulder to land on Delilah's face. The white wolf scarfed it down in record time.

 

“Aww.” Will slumped dejectedly. Delilah licked her lips, and grinned.

 

“I need to hunt. And soon, before I turn into -” He trailed off as he looked at Willy, who was making sad puppy-dire eyes at Sorren's half finished plate. With a sigh the halfborn handed his plate over, and the pirate gleefully began to devour it's contents.

 

“Well – I have been meaning to test your interaction with Hubris, now that you've both had a chance to recover,” Caladaer said. He laid down his fork and steepled his fingers over his plate in thought. He looked calm to Fenrir, but he imagined the elvian on high alert against attacks on his own blueberry pancakes. “The Elkrin Riders often stage a hunt through rough terrain. They say it increases the bond between rider and mount. The more experienced rider will go ahead, laying a trail while the others attempt to follow. It's suppose to teach you to rely on your partner – combining your strengths and magics to overcome adversity.”

 

 _'That sounds rather fun,_ ' Hubris said.  


“We could go out to the seashore – plenty of rocks, and marshland – it should prove an interesting challenge for you two to navigate the place. And maybe you'll find time to do your hunting.”

 

Fenrir eagerly agreed. Slowed down by their breakfast, they sleepily packed Vipen's saddle bags. The day was warm, with a brisk breeze blowing from the sea. Sorren came out to hand them a basket full of lunch, and wished them well. Fenrir tried to sneak a peek in the basket, but Cally slapped his hand away.

 

Sorren pretended not to see. “Willy says to be back before supper. We're due for a nasty storm according to him.”

 

From the house they could hear Willy bellowing. “My sailor senses are never wrong!”  


They set off, staying clear of the major streets. The town was bustling, as usual, but it felt strange – disjointed almost. The strange little party of wolfkin, elvian, elkrin, and dire wolf, moved through the city as if moving through a dream, ignored or avoided by fellow passersby.

 

As they left the city for the countryside, the sky opened up before them. The blue was scattered with wispy clouds, the day bright and clear, and smelling of the sea. Fenrir took the opportunity to change into a wolf, and ran ahead of the rider and his mount, enjoying the feel of the sandy soil between his toes, and the sun on his black fur.

 

He looked up at Caladaer feeling a happiness that made his tail wag. The elvian really did look like a prince with the sunlight turning his red hair to fire. Vipen arched his neck gracefully, seeming to enjoy the ride. He was so different from the scared little piece of elvian prey he'd seen in the woods all those months ago. He radiated an easy confidence, making Fenrir wonder what had transpired while he'd been guarding that temple.  


Caladaer led him down a sandy path that seemed like little more then a game trail. Dune grass grew in great clumps, and the wolfkin wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of salt. Nesting gulls squabbled with the local runes high above their heads, filling the air with their screeches. It reminded him of the cries of Dhol'kai sweeping across the desert evenings.

 

The path ended at the top of a cliff that gently slopped towards a rocky beach. Out on the ocean the water gamboled playfully, whitecaps chasing after each other like frisking sleipnir colts.

 

Caladaer dismounted, and rummaged in Vipen's packs. When he reemerged he held out his find to Fenrir. The wolfkin bristled.  


“That's degrading. I'm not doing it.”

 

“It's just so I can know where you are, so I can stay ahead, and find you again quickly if I need to. The Elkrin Riders always fasten bells to their mounts when they run these hunts.”

 

Fenrir eyed the silver bell on the purple ribbon, wrinkling his nose in distaste.“Why don't _you_ wear the bell so I can find you, habi'b?” The wolf asked, baring his sharp teeth in a grin.

 

Caladaer smiled, but shook his head. “That would be cheating. Your prey doesn't usually wear bells to signal where they are, now do they?” He reached out and tied the ribbon around the wolf's shaggy neck. Fenrir turned his head to breath in the elvian's scent, trying to memorize it. His wet nose brushed the inside of Caladaer's ear, and the elvian flicked it.

 

“I'm not some lost Sheep Rune, you know,” the wolfkin objected. “I can't believe I'm letting you do this.” _You're lucky you're pretty, elvian._

 

Caladaer stood back to admire his handiwork. “Oh come now! I think it suits you!”  


Delilah made a choking noise, and Fenrir glanced over at her to see the white wolf rolling in the dune grass, her paws flailing in the air, laughing.

 

_'Ha! You look like some toy-pet.'_

 

 _'I heard what she said!'_ Fenrir snapped at the spirit. _'And you have to wear it too, so shut up!'_  


Hubris kept laughing, and Fenrir growled.

 

He glanced up to see Caladaer trying to hide a smirk. The elvian caught his expression and quickly recovered, clearing his throat. “It's only for the exercise at least.” He straightened and walked over to Vipen. The elvian reached out to stroke the elkrin's neck. “Are you ready Vipen?” The stag snorted, and tossed his head. He looked dubious.

 

“Oh, don't be that way.” The elvian mounted his stag.

 

“Fenrir – you are sure you're up to this?” The wolfkin looked up at the elvian. The barest trace of a worry creased his forehead. He wouldn't meet Fenrir's gaze.

 

Fenrir narrowed his eyes. Caladaer turned to look at him.“I will trust your judgment, implicitly. Vipen and I will be relaying on your ability to control Hubris' power. If you feel it is too much – signal us with a howl. We will turn back and help you. ”

 

“Are you so frightened of me, habi'b?” the wolfkin asked.

 

 _'Not with that ridiculous bell on.'_ Hubris was still chortling.

 

Caladaer smiled warmly at him. “I would never be frightened of you. Rather I worry about the sort of trouble you can get in if you push yourself too far.”

 

Fenrir snorted, ducking his head. The thought of the elkrin doe popped into his mind, and he quickly discarded it, hoping Hubris didn't notice it. “I'm confident I'll be fine.”

 

Caladaer looked relieved at this.“Alright then – we'll start off, and after a minute you follow. Delilah will come with us. Ready for a run Delilah?” The dire wolf rolled to her feet, twin tails wagging. She _wuffed_ at the elvian. “Right then. Best of luck Fenrir! If you need us to turn back, signal us. Ya!” With that the elkrin leapt off the cliff and plunged toward the sea, Delilah in hot pursuit. Fenrir watched as the stag leapt from rock to rock before disappearing around a bend in the shoreline.

 

He sucked in a deep breath, and began counting out the seconds. _One, two, three -_

 

 _'I can do this little run easily, Fenrir.'_ Hubris told him. _'I can jump those rocks as nimbly as any elkrin. Let me take control.'_

 

_'We're suppose to work together. ' Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen..._

 

_'And we will – your body – our magic - my mind.'_

 

Fenrir snapped at the air.

 

_'You want to impress your little habi'b, do you not?'_

 

Fenrir suddenly felt hot under his fur, hearing Hubris use that term. _'Look, just give me magic when I need it!'_

 

_'You risk taking too much.'_

 

 _'Then stop me from taking too much. That's your job!'_ Fenrir stood, growling, looking out where Caladaer had gone.

 

_'I'm as new at this as you are Fenrir. I don't know what will happen at any given moment.'_

 

The wind played with his dark fur. The bell twisted on it's ribbon, softly tinkling. Gulls wheeled overhead, calling to each other in their harsh voices. Fenrir blinked eyes that stung from the salt spray.

 

 _'Has it been a minute yet?'_ he asked Hubris.

 

 _'Do I look like the Ancient of Time?'_  


He figured it was enough of a head start for the elvian. Fenrir shook himself, the sound of the bell ringing loud in his ears. _'I feel ridiculous in this thing.'_ He plunged off the cliff, and began leaping from rock to rock like the elkrin had done.

 

He missed a few times on some of the longer leaps, but he scrambled up and jumped to the next. Finally the scent of Vipen and Caladaer left the rocks behind and ascended up the slope off of the beach. Tongue lolling, Fenrir chased after the scent, and paused at the top to catch his breath.

 

_'I could do with a bit of extra energy right now... I'm not going to be getting any support from you, am I?'_

 

_'Rah rah – Fenrir's our wolfkin, if he can't do it, no one can win.'_

 

Fenrir stopped. _'Are you... being sarcastic right now? Geez – you got your tails in a knot or what?'_

 

_'I learned from the best.'_

 

Fenrir chose to ignore him, and pressed on. There was nothing Cally could throw at him that he couldn't handle on his own.

 

It was hard for him to concentrate on tracking. He was not much of a scent hound by nature – Delilah was the tracker in his pack. He kept rushing ahead only to find he lost the trail and had to back track. He was growing more and more frustrated – it should not be this glitchin' hard. Caladaer's trail led through a maze of dune grass to a brackish marsh that lay between the ocean and a dense wood. The scent disappeared just in front of the water.

 

“Clever buck,” he muttered. He carefully picked his way along the edge of the marsh, slowing down to check every clump of grass and rock that lined the water. Finally he found a log laying half in the water on the far side that had a trace of scent. He imagined the scene in his head, Vipen wading out into the water, climbing the log, and leaping back to dry land, leaving no trail out of the water. Fenrir was impressed. “Not clever enough though.”

 

He picked up the scent again further in the woods, and followed it into the forest. _Makes me think he's done stuff like this before._ Songbirds sang their praises overhead, dashing from tree to tree, and spreading the alarm as the belled wolf entered their domain.

 

The scent sent him weaving through trees, leaping fallen logs, and fording streams, until he ran into a sheer wall of dirt and rock. He grumbled, casting for the quickest way around. The wall seemed to extend in both directions, and no easy ascent presented itself.

 

He refused to beg Hubris for his magical aid. Still that didn't stop the spirit from voicing his opinions. _'I think you should follow it south.'_

 

Fenrir went north.

 

The bell was growing more annoying by the second. Trying to focus, he nosed the ground, overturning dead leaves, searching for Vipen's scent. His head came up, and the bell went quiet.

 

_'Hubris – you smell that?'_

 

_'It's your nose, Fenrir. Not mine.'_

 

 _'I'm serious.'_ Fenrir drank in a huge nose-full. _'It smells like wolfkin. I wonder if it's the local pack Willy was talking about.'_ He snuffled around the area, finding a broken branch. He hesitated. On the one hand, his own kind had no love for him, but on the other if he was going to be roaming this territory it was paramount that he introduce himself before he was labeled a trespasser.

 

He turned after the scent track of his own kind. The scent was strong, the wolfkin having made no attempt to hide itself. By it's tracks Fenrir could see it was running as a wolf. Probably on a hunt. _'I better find them before they find Cally and mistake him for an easy meal.'_ He'd just run up and let them know he was there, then he'd collect Cally and leave. It grated on him to give up good hunting territory so easily, but he hardly had a choice, being a guest in these lands.

 

The trail was easy enough to follow, and Fenrir put on some extra speed to catch up with them. Another scent was mingled with it, sweet like decay, and metallic smelling. He hadn't even realized how quiet it had gone until a rustling made him look up, ears alert. He stood in a pleasant sunlit glade. The trees here were thick, the shadows underneath them dark and cool. Squinting Fenrir thought he saw movement in one of them. He felt Hubris bristling.

 

“Hey there!” Fenrir called out. A warning growl grew up from the darkness. Fenrir wagged his tail in friendly greeting. A dark shape lumbering through the trees. “Packmate!” he called out again. The bell rang, and Fenrir realized then how utterly ridiculous he must look.

 

“ _Why are you following me?”_ a deep, rasping voice asked. The voice sent chills shooting down Fenrir's spine.

 

“Sorry - I didn't know this was your turf. I wanted to apologize for trespassing.”

 

A heavy growl rumbled from the dark shape between the trees. Fenrir felt his hackles rise unbidden. Hubris leapt up inside him, every instinct of their's yelling at him to run, but Fenrir found his paws frozen. _I'm done apologizing, now let's get out of here._ Obviously this wolfkin preferred it's privacy.

 

“Like I said – sorry friend. Look I didn't take anything of yours, so I'll just gather my friend and leave.”

 

He began to back out of the glade, when the other wolfkin stepped out of the tree shadow, and bared it's teeth at him. Fenrir felt a stab of horror at the sight of it's face. He froze, unable to look away from the scarred and scabbed visage. Black lines radiated across it's muzzle like cracks in a piece of lightening-struck wood. Clumps of fur and flesh hung off of it's bones, and Fenrir felt a welling up of pity for the poor creature. It was obviously sick and half starved.

 

It stared at him with milky white eyes - lifeless, dead. The gaze tried to focus on Fenrir, but the eyes kept drifting. _“Hold still!”_ it snapped.

 

“Are you – alright, friend?” Fenrir asked, taking a careful step backwards. The scent of decay wafted off the wolfkin, as well as something totally unfamiliar, strange, and sickening. Fenrir couldn't bear to look at it, and found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

 

“ _I'm hungry...”_

 

Fenrir swallowed. “I don't have anything to eat, but if you wait here...”

 

“ _Don't make me wait, little bell.”_ The wolfkin shambled forward, tripping over paws that looked bloodied and swollen. The other wolfkin seemed larger even then Fenrir. More like a mountain then a wolf. The trees seemed to tremble at his voice. Or maybe that was just Fenrir's knees. _“I'll die if I have to wait any longer,”_ it moaned, black spittle flying from broken teeth. Nausea rose up in Fenrir's stomach and remembered with regret those three and a half pancakes topped with bacon.

 

_'Hubris, what the hell is going on with that thing!?'_

 

 _'That. Is Oblivion's Curse.'_ For once Hubris actually sounded frightened, his voice halting and unsure. Fenrir looked back up at the misshapen monster, pity and horror twisting his guts. _'Fenrir... we need to call Caladaer. You can't handle this on your own. We need help.'_

 

Fenrir's mind raced. The black monstrosity lunged forward, almost toppling over it's own paws. _**“Food!”** _ It moved with surprising quickness, and suddenly it was on top of him. Fenrir only barely managed to misstep the snapping jaws. He leapt away just in time to avoid a swipe. The dark possessed shape of the wolfkin whirled around, twisting it's head this way and that like an Owl Rune.

 

Fenrir dashed to the left, and the hungry wolfkin tackled him. The wolfkin got his head under Fenrir's chest and tossed him overhead. Fenrir landed with an ' _oof!_ ' The cursed wolf spun like a top, faster then Fenrir would've thought possible. It hurled itself down on him. Fenrir rolled to the side, as the ravenous jaws plowed into the dirt and leaf litter where he'd just been.

 

Fenrir sprang upright and began running, while the wolfkin pulled it's muzzle free. It bellowed, spitting dirt and bile.

 

It was no longer a wolfkin, Fenrir realized with dread. It looked, and smelled like wolfkin, but whatever it was made it wolfkin was gone, eaten out by the curse. He'd seen wolfkin gone feral before, even seen them go completely mad, but this felt different. He didn't know what to expect when he'd heard descriptions of the curse. But not this... This was terrifying.

 

Adrenaline pumped in Fenrir's veins, and he charged full speed back the way he'd come. He weaved in and out of trees, scrambled over logs. The cursed wolfkin was right behind him, ignoring his attempts to slow him. Fenrir could hear it crashing mindlessly through the underbrush. It's panting was loud and ragged, and all too close.

 

 _'Damn! This thing is fast.'_ He was already starting to tire. His shoulder ached.

 

_'And strong. The curse gives it energy. It won't tire like a normal wolfkin.'_

 

 _'Then we'll just have to lose it.'_ Fenrir saw an opening between two trees and leapt through them. He fumbled in the leaves and then leapt down a small ravine and kept running. The sounds of crashing died down, trailing off in the distance. Fenrir allowed himself to slow to a lope, and catch his breath. He began to consider his options. Caladaer was still in this forest with no idea a monster was on the loose.

 

He'd follow this ravine until he was sure it was gone, then loop back to the cliff where he'd lost Caladaer. He couldn't risk howling and alerting the monster to his location – he'd have to track the elvian down the hard way. The forest was deathly quiet. Fenrir pricked his ears to try and hear the sounds of the beast.

 

_'I think it's g-'_

 

“ _I hear you, little dinner bell!”_ Fenrir spun to see the black shape of the cursed wolfkin leering down at him from the top of the ravine. _“Ring Ring!”_

 

_'Dammit! I forgot about that glitchin' bell!'_

 

The black beast slid over the ravine's edge like a pile of goo. It collapsed quivering into the ravine, it's legs giving out, and then just as quickly was on it's feet again. It swept it's head back and forth, softly chanting, _“Ring ring, ring-a-ling.”_

 

 _'We need to call Caladaer,'_ Hubris cried out as the creature lunged at them. Fenrir leapt backwards. While the creature recovered itself, he bounded up and out of the ravine. He dug deep for another burst of speed. Gritting his teeth past the sting of his old injuries Fenrir ran on, ignoring Hubris' request.

 

Hubris snarled, and Fenrir flinched at the force of it. _'This is not the time to test our limits Fenrir! We need backup. Call Caladaer!'_

 

“I don't _need_ his help!” Fenrir shouted. He lashed his tail in agitation, the wolf in him growling.

 

Behind him he heard the beast howling in frustration as it clawed it's way out of the ravine and came after him. He glanced behind, and saw nothing but an open jaw in a pit of black.

 

Fenrir turned demanding. _'Give me your magic. It's the only way to beat him.'_ He reached out for it – for the power that Hubris guarded within him, felt it glowing hot and golden.

 

A wall was thrown up in his mind, making Fenrir trip over his feet. He quickly regained his footing and kept running. _“Hubris!”_

 

_'You can't solve all your problems by throwing magic at them.'_

 

_'Screw you! You can't stop me.'_

 

 _'I'm not going to let you run wild with my magic. Remember last time?'_ Hubris flashed the image of bloodied ground to Fenrir, not that he needed the reminder. _'What do you think will happen if you lost control now? I might not be able to bring you back if you went feral.'_

 

_'Why do you think I'm not calling Caladaer?!'_

 

That made Hubris pause. The spirit fumbled for an answer. Slowly, he felt Hubris lower the defense. _'We're... leading it away from Caladaer...'_

 

_'Well, running is the only thing they taught me to do.'_

 

Fenrir latched onto the exposed power, hot as lightening, letting the wildness flood him. In an instant he felt it flood his limbs, warm and soothing. Every strain disappeared, and he felt as rampant as a river, rushing headlong toward the sea. He barreled through, giving in to the awesome power of Hubris. Sights sharpening, scents flooding him. He felt as if he might burst in a brilliant flash, burning away his body and the forest, and the winds of Darak'i would scatter his ashes across the sky.

 

He heard the possessed wolfkin falling away behind him, and he reined in his mad dash in an attempt to keep it on his tail. In record time he was at the cliff where he'd left Caladaer's scent. Now with Hubris' power coursing through every fiber he could have easily cleared it, but instead he ran on.

 

He crashed out of the forest and found himself hurtling into the marsh. He swam powerfully across, never faltering or losing stride. As he pulled himself free of the water, he saw his pursuant plunge into the marshland after him. Fenrir took a moment to watch him. He didn't need the respite, for he felt no tiredness, only the restless desire to run.

 

He spun and ran away as the wolfkin reached the halfway mark of the marsh. He ran all the way back to the sea and never stopped, the curse snapping at his tail.

 

He reached for more power. Hubris was reluctant, but fed it into him steadily. It was not enough though. He needed more.

 

As Fenrir raced he felt almost as if he were back home in Darak'i – yes, he could see it clearly. The ocean waves, the shifting sand dunes of his youth. The sky overhead the same that glared down on him as he ran from home. The cliffs where he and Delilah had sheltered during midday, fearing their inevitable capture. He recognized it all. And there were the wolfkin behind him.

 

Something flashed in Fenrir's mind, old memories stirred up. In an instant he was back in Darak'i with the pack on his tail. Fenrir dove into his wolf self, begging the form to take him away. It responded by putting on a burst of speed, legs stretching to their limits, exalting in their wild run, even as his heart panicked and tried to burst out of his mouth from pure fear.

 

Everything blurred as he gave way to pure instinct. His body took over, fueled on by memories of pursuit. He felt a chord of dissonance ringing in the back of his mind – Hubris, but he pushed it aside. As he ran the chord grew louder, and he realized Hubris was trying to take control. Desperation shot through him. He was going to lose himself. With a snarl Fenrir clamped down on that off-note. Shaking his head, he trying to smother it, but it glowed hot and fierce, and his grip on control began to loosen, as Hubris again tried yanking the reins from him.

 

' _You stupid puppy!'_ Hubris' boomed, seemingly from everywhere, terrible and awesome. Suddenly his foreleg gave out, the sharp pain so swift he saw white sparks before his eyes. Fenrir was still hurtling through the air, but his feet were no longer on the ground. Then with a _whump!_ he landed heavily on his side, gasping.

 

The world seemed to slow. He saw the great black shadow running him down. It felt so familiar... He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth through the pain. He turned to face it, snarling savagely. Wrestling away the rest of Hubris' power he let it consume him wholly. He was on fire, a painless flame that licked him inside and out, burning him away until he was no longer Fenrir.

 

He was wolf. And he was itching for a fight. He hopped up onto his back legs and bared his teeth at the fast approaching enemy.

 

“ _ **There you are, dinner bell!”**_

 

The shadow collided with him.

 

 

~

  


Hubris saw a blur of motion through Fenrir's eye - fur flying, teeth flashing. Snarls and growls surrounded him. Bloodlust welled in him, but he had no teeth with which to bite. His strength was Fenrir's now, and Fenrir had taken it all.

 

The spirit desperately wanted to rush in to aid Fenrir, but there was no Fenrir to aid. He cried out to him, but the wolfkin who had served him all his life wasn't there. The spirit flung himself at the inside of Fenrir's skull, but it was as thick as ever. _'Fenrir, where are you?'_ His voice seemed to echo in the lonely space. It was as if he were asleep again, unable to be heard. Only a feral animal occupied Fenrir's head as he ripped savagely at the other wolfkin.

 

A sharp blow from the beast sent Fenrir flying head over tail, and Hubris reeled. Confusion clouded the spirit as Fenrir's brain tried to reorient itself. It was not unlike the time Fenrir had taken that punch, Hubris realized, as his thoughts finally cleared.

 

 _'Yes, you're here somewhere, Fenrir. Just like I was.'_ His only answer was a feral snarl. Fenrir pawed at his head, as the possessed wolfkin clamped it's jaws around Fenrir's flank. The feral wolfkin struggled free, ripping and tearing at his attacker with blind ferocity. His paws skittered on the rocks, seeking purchase on the rocky cliff edge.

 

Hubris extended his spirit, searching throughout Fenrir's head for the wherever he'd gone. _'Fear not. I won't let you lose yourself.'_ There. A golden glimmer, locked away tight, fearful and small. Hubris dove towards it.

 

The cursed creature dove toward Fenrir, locked it's teeth into his neck. Fenrir yelped in pain, and Hubris flinched. With unnatural strength, fueled by the curse that tore through it's body, the wolfkin heaved Fenrir off his feet. With a powerful twist of it's neck it slammed him into ground.

 

Fenrir gasped in pain, scrambling wildly, as the sandy cliff side started to give way. The possessed wolfkin's teeth slipped, caught on the ribbon that held the bell Caladaer had given him. The ribbon twisted cruelly around Fenrir's throat as the cliff gave way beneath him. His feet kicked out into open air. He gasped for air, flailing wildly as the ribbon suffocated him, it's bell ringing mockingly in his ears.

 

All around Hubris Fenrir's consciousness begin to darken. Desperately he grasped for the memory of Fenrir. With a vicious twist the cursed wolfkin pulled the ribbon tighter, just as Hubris felt the world go black. Without a sound, the ribbon snapped.

 

The wolfkin fell over backwards, the bell in his teeth and ringing wildly. Fenrir plummeted down the cliff face in a shower of sand and rocks, crashing heavily into the cliff.

 

The starving wolfkin lifted it's head to the grey sky and screamed a mournful howl at the loss of it's prey.

 

But Fenrir didn't hear a sound.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Caladaer pulled Vipen to a halt as the howl echoed across the landscape. The elvian's ears twitched at the haunting sound. He noticed Delilah had gone rigid and was looking back the way they had come. He didn't need to ask her to know that something was very wrong.

 

Vipen spun around without being asked and ran toward where the howl had come from. At Caladaer's gentle urging the elkrin sprang forward, legs pumping madly. He soared over the rocks and logs without breaking stride, each bound carrying him effortlessly. Delilah soon fell behind, but her barking drove him onwards.

 

Vipen cleared the cliff in one powerful bound. He landed as lightly as a humming bumble, barely stirring the leaf litter beneath his hooves. Another spring and he sailed through the forest. Caladaer held on tight, as the stag galloped through the forest. He whipped through the trees like a ghostly spirit, leaping over underbrush, easily dodging fallen branches, weaving like a serpent to avoid them.

 

At the marsh, and still no sign of Fenrir. Caladaer asked Vipen to slow, and called out to him. Ahead, his sensitive ears heard the distinct ringing of the silver bell. It's sound was cut off as Vipen sprang through the water, sending up great plumes of water. The two reached the shore and Caladaer glanced down to see a jumble of pawprints.

 

“What sort of trouble could he possibly have gotten into?” he muttered as Vipen charged forward again. Surely the wolfkin could not be nearly as much trouble as the Sealer had been.

 

Ahead he heard the ringing of the bell. Vipen narrowed in on it. With a bound he cleared a dune and nearly landed in the jaws of the waiting wolfkin. Vipen reared as the dark wolf swung around to snap at them. The stag sprang away, narrowly avoiding being tackled, and nearly upsetting Caladaer's balance.

 

“Fenrir!” Caladaer cried as he wheeled his mount around. His heart was hammering wildly, his face burning with indignation. “Now is not the time for one of your 'pouncing lessons'! You near about -” his voice died in his throat as the wolfkin spun to face him. “Fenrir..?”

 

The wolfkin snarled, baring teeth. A purple ribbon dangled from it's gums, the bell swaying back and forth mounrfully. Vipen bugled in fear, as an all two familiar scent assailed the two of them, washing them both in terror. Caladaer felt like crying out too, as cold dread sank icy fangs into his gut.

 

“Fenrir... How could...” Vipen began backing away, even as his rider urged him onwards. Caladaer could not tear his gaze away from the mangled face of his friend, now twisted beyond all recognition. No. He wouldn't believe it. This couldn't be Fenrir. Fate could not have chosen to play such a horrible joke on him. He didn't realize he was shaking his head. “Please don't do this... Fate almighty, don't do this.” The wolfkin bellowed and sprang forward. Vipen dodged.

 

Caladaer had never known the curse to work so fast. No – this was someone else. But... what if Hubris' magic somehow exacerbated the process. Or worse, what if he'd been fighting it all this time without his knowing it. No. He was still shaking his head.

 

“Fenrir! That's not you! You have to fight the curse! You can do it!” He ducked as the beast swiped at him. “Hubris can help you! Call on him!” The wolfkin landed a blow on Vipen's hindquarters and the elkrin tumbled head over heel. Somehow Caladaer was able to stay on, curling in on himself. “Vipen... I c-can't...” The elkrin landed heavily.

 

The black beast came barreling down on the downed elkrin. Vipen snorted angrily. The stag flung his antlered head around to protect his rider, stabbing upwards. A horrible screech was heard as a prong thrust into the creature's eye. Stinging drops of hot blood splashed across Caladaer's face. The creature roared, falling backwards, giving the elkrin the chance to struggle upright.

 

Caladaer wrapped his arms around Vipen's strong neck as the stag carried him away across the dunes, bearing him, at least momentarily out of reach of the beast. Wiping at his eyes, Caladaer sat up and looked down at his cursed friend.

 

It shook it's shaggy black head, and fixed it's one good eye on Caladaer, rage and pain and confusion in it's one remaining eye. “Fenrir...” His friend was moaning and flailing about in pain and confusion, and the sight made Caladaer sick to him stomach. “We can't let Hubris die,” Caladaer mumbled. Vipen snorted in agreement. The elvian rubbed a hand down his mount's white neck, stained red with the black blood of the cursed wolfkin. The elkrin lent him strength, and Caladaer straightened with determination burning in his eyes. “And we can't let Fenrir hurt anyone.” With a bellow of conviction the white stag and the elvian prince sprang forward into battle, the black wolf hurtling to meet him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Fenrir lay curled on his side. In the distance he thought he heard barking, a sound of pursuit, the rumble of siege. It might have just been this head, pounding. It felt as if Hubris had taken a stick and was beating his skull from the inside. His whole body quivered in pain and exhaustion. He realized his eyes were closed tight, and feared opening them. _If I stay here, they won't find me._ He reached out for Delilah, but felt nothing there.

 

They told me to run – run away as fast as you can Fenrir. Don't look back. Don't ever look back.

 

Of course, he had to.

 

It was a memory he thought long since scarred over, before Hubris decided to rip it open fresh and new. He felt the spirit now, prodding at it, dragging it out of the muck. _'Get out of there! Let me alone!'_ Fenrir wasn't sure if he said it aloud.

 

Hadn't be been a good little servant to Hubris all those years? Sure, he had cried every night they worked to tattoo the bonds to him, but he'd sucked it up, hadn't he? When they told him to stay, he stayed. When they told him to run, he ran. He wanted to help, but he ran away like a coward to save their precious Hubris. He stood guard over his temple for years, defended it with all his strength, and what was his reward for all this? He felt weaker, not stronger since Hubris had awoken, as if the newly awaken spirit were a parasite digging up old painful memories and feeding off them.

 

“ _Fenrir!”_

 

Don't listen to them Fenrir. They'll kill you. Don't let down your guard. Hubris brushed against him, and he angrily pushed him aside. _What did you ever do for me?_

 

I'll just stay here, he thought curling tighter into his memory. Beneath the shelter of a great stone cliff, a sanctuary of shade in a desert of enemies. The wolfkin couldn't reach him here, pressed tight in between the rocks. No one could reach him here, not even Hubris. Delilah would soon return with food. Until then, he listened to the desert wind as it whistled through the stone pillars.

 

The wind carried their voices to him. He could hear them calling his name, begging him to come out, promising safety, but he knew they were all liars. He'd seen what they'd done to the temple. To his pack. He'd looked back and saw it all in a burning flash that was forever branded in his mind as surely as the tattoos were on his body. He could still smell the greasy black smoke – it stained his fur, the acrid stench making his eyes water. Delilah said it covered their scent.

 

“Fenrir! Please stop!” Hmm? That was a new voice. An ear twitched. Stop. Stop what. He wasn't doing anything. A fat liquid drop struck his face. Water..? Reluctant eyelids opened. He found he was laying against some large hairy creature. At first he took it for Delilah, carrying him away. But the fur was dark.

 

_'Hubris?'_

 

Something warm and familiar brushed against his consciousness, bidding him to wake up. The wolfkin blinked watery eyes.

 

It took him a long moment to register where he actually was. Dune grass gently caressed his face. Very slowly, he lifted his head. Immediately he regretted it. It felt as if it would explode. He glanced up at the huge boulder above him, blinking away tears. It seemed the world had turned sideways for a moment.

 

The rumbling was not the sound of the approaching hunters he saw, but the waves on the shore crashing against the rocks. Despite the turmoil nature seemed to be in all around him he felt.. detached. Confused. Alone. Feeling dizzy, he leaned his head against the solid rock, letting it's realness engulf him.

 

“ _Fenrir! Please!”_ Ears shot up. The desperate plea in that yell snapped him back into focus. That was not someone looking to lure him out and hurt him. That voice was familiar. Warmth shot through his body at the memory, prompting him to struggle to his feet. Everything ached, and he nearly collapsed again. He flopped against the boulder, panting. _Well, I'm not dead._

 

 _'Not yet at least',_ a warm voice chuckled in his mind. Fenrir flinched at the sound, and the memory of himself came rushing back. He nearly fell again as relief surged through him. Hubris' power reached out to bolster him. _'Glad to have you back Fenrir.'_

 

 _'Never thought I'd say it, but... likewise Hubris.'_ He felt as if he had just come home after a long lonely journey to be greeted by an old pack mate.

 

It was then he heard the bugle of an elkrin sounding a challenge. _“'Caladaer!'”_

 

Fenrir scrambled up the incline of the cliff. _'I went feral didn't I? Again. What happened?'_

 

 _'You took took much power and went wild with it. You forgot yourself. I had to find you again.'_ Fenrir could feel a bit of hesitation from the spirit. _'I am sorry, for what happened to you Fenrir. I never intended this.'_

 

Pain lanced through every limb as he heaved himself over a rock. It gave way and he went crashing back down the cliff face. The soft sand and dune grass broke his fall. He grunted. _'Heh. Help me through this and I'll forgive you a hundred times over.'_

 

The wolfkin sat up, groaning. _'Try again. You can do this. Caladaer needs us.'_ Snarling, Fenrir launched himself at the sandy cliff yet again. This time, with Hubris' help he pulled his battered body up over the top, and collapsed.

 

He glanced up to see Caladaer, mounted on Vipen. The two were leaping from dune to dune with expert grace, staying just out of reach of the snapping jaws of some monstrous black shape. Fenrir's nostrils were hit with the sickeningly sweet smell of decay and burnt flesh. He felt his hackles rise, and a protective snarl rippled threw him.

 

The skies overhead were darkening, making it hard to work out the exact action. Caladaer seemed to be pleading with it, hands help out, placating and weaponless. But Fenrir knew the beast was far beyond reasoning.

 

“ _Bloody fool!”_ He couldn't be sure who had spoken – him or Hubris. He called out to Caladaer, but the wind tore his voice from his throat and shredded it to tatters. He took off toward the elvian, feeling a sudden burst of energy come from somewhere. _Hubris._ The spirit was pushing his energy into Fenrir, easing overheated muscles, cuts and scrapes. Fenrir took full advantage of this, breaking into a headlong rush. They galloped over the dune grass, both fueled by the burning need to rescue their elvian prince.

 

 _'I told you this would happen if we left him alone!'_ Fenrir snarled, as much to himself as Hubris.

 

They saw the possessed wolfkin swipe at Vipen's hindquarters. The elkrin stumbled, falling under the creature's jaws. Before they could snap close on him like a fly trapper, the elkrin gained his feet, and leapt clear. Teeth snapped on Vipen's tail, and came away with feathery down.

 

Even with the stumble, Vipen was faster and more nimble then any wolfkin. He surged forward like an arrow shot from an elvian bow, quickly outpacing the dark creature.

 

 _Yes!_ Fenrir thought. _He'll get away. Run faster!_

 

The stag dashed across the dunes, quick as a jackalope, before suddenly veering to the side. Fenrir skidded, startled by the sudden change of direction. “What is he doing?”  


Caladaer had turned Vipen around and was now running straight into the mouth of the cursed wolfkin.

 

Then Fenrir saw what Caladaer had clearly seen. A streak of white had dashed out of the forest and was now attacking the wolfkin. It was a blur of black and white as the wolfkin and Delilah met. The two wolves tore at each other with snarls, bloodied fur and spittle flying everywhere.

 

Fenrir was pierced by a deep stab of fear, twisting in his gut like a knife. Without waiting to catch his breath, he began to run once more.

 

Cally got there first. Vipen reared up and struck out at the dark creature with his hooves. His sharp hooves struck furiously. One blow hit the wolfkin's damaged eye, and it reeled back, roaring. Delilah snagged the opportunity to slip out from under him. The beast threw it's massive, shaggy head around wildly. Vipen couldn't avoid it fast enough and found himself head-butted in the chest. The elrkin went flying backwards, throwing Caladaer clear off his back. The elvian fell onto his side, his bow clattering to the ground beside him. Caladaer scrambled backwards, as the lumbering monster took a step toward him, shaking it's head, and trying to see past the blood that streamed down into his good eye.

 

The elvian's hand fell on the bow, and fumbled with it in the sand, all strength and grace evaporating in his desperation.

 

 _What in Oblivion's name is he doing?!_ “'Fight back, damn you! _Fight back!'_ ” Fenrir and Hubris screamed together. Caladaer's fingers seemed to be made of lead. He dropped an arrow, went for another and dropped that as well.

 

“Damn it! We need to run faster!” he growled at Hubris. He felt the spirit within him, flooding him with energy. Something seemed to unlock in his chest; his lungs suddenly sucked in twice as much air; his limbs no longer burned, but tingled with power; the scene before him became sharper - clearer.

 

Heavy paws struck the ground, and he felt the power of Hubris running with him, matching his stride. The ground seemed to melt away, each bound carrying him further then the last. A few more strides and Fenrir was nearly upon the other wolfkin. The dark back loomed like a mountain in front of them.

 

Bunching his legs under him, Fenrir and Hubris sprang at the monster. They collided with a solid thud. Tumbling across the dunes, Fenrir could hardly see, but when he felt fur under his muzzle he bit down with sabre fangs. Blood welled up in his mouth, and he was rewarded with a sharp yelp of pain. With a snarl he began to whip his head back and forth, tearing a deeper wound. He ignored the claws that raked his sides and belly. Teeth snapped overhead, trying to get hold of him.

 

He felt Hubris' jaws as well as his own, tearing into flesh and fur. The struggling wolfkin rolled across the ground. Distantly Fenrir heard Caladaer yelling, but couldn't make out the words over the wind and growls.

 

The cursed abomination found it's feet and got a paw under Fenrir. He ripped the wolfkin off, ignoring the chunk of him that came away with him. Fenrir gagged on fur and blood that tasted of ash. A massive paw slammed down on his chest, pinning him. Growling, Fenrir looked up at his adversary, and the gaping hole in it's chest. Ordinarily a wound like that would've felled any wolfkin, but this one seemed oblivious to it. Fenrir felt a stab of horror at it's one-eyed face, now swollen and bloodied. It's other eye roamed around in it's head, unable to focus. Something black dripped from it's nose.

 

 _'You've got this!'_ Hubris yelled at him. With a snarl the beast lunged at Fenrir's throat, missed and pulled back for another go. Hubris was buzzing in his head, itching for a fight. _'Kick his ass!'_

 

That was all the encouragement he needed. Fenrir bared his teeth in a grin. He latched onto the cursed creature's neck, sinking fangs into fur. The beast tried to shake him as if he were a pesky flea. Fenrir lifted a leg and kicked – _hard_ \- at the wound on it's chest. The beast bellowed in pain, and Fenrir felt his paw strike sticky flesh. With a throaty rumble, the beast began to tremble. Then summoning all it's considerable strength it reared back on it's hind legs and twisted it's head, jaws closing on Fenrir's back. With a grunt, Fenrir felt himself ripped free and thrown aside like a ragdoll.

 

Fenrir cried out, as he landed hard on his bad shoulder. He forced himself to stand up right, before his leg gave out. He felt concern from Hubris. “I'm fine,” he grunted, getting his paw under him again. Though it hurt like hell, it didn't seem anything was broken. He was suddenly accosted by a blur of red and green. Startled he almost clawed at Caladaer before he realized it was him.

 

“Fenrir!” Cally's voice seemed to crack with emotion as he wrapped an arm around the big wolf, steadying him. “I thought – you'd been - I mean you -”

 

Fenrir batted him away playfully. “Save the sentiment, habi'b – I'm trying to rescue your antlered butt!”

 

The beast was already charging anew. As Fenrir struggled to meet the next attack, Caladaer tackled him behind a small dune, and the cursed wolfkin went barreling past.

 

Fenrir snarled about to charge at the beast again, but Caladaer held him back, dragging him behind a boulder, as the beast cast around half blind in the sand for them.

 

“It's going to kill you if you keep throwing yourself at it. Trust me.” He was running his hands down Fenrir's sides in a most distracting way. Fenrir finally pulled his attention off the brute and onto Cally. “Did he bite you? Draw any blood?”

 

“I'm too fast for him to draw blood on me.”

 

 _'I think you mean too fluffy.'_ Hubris joked. _'He tore out quite a few chunks of your fur, it seems.'_

 

“Where's Delilah?”

 

“I saw her run after Vipen. They can't be far.”

 

He looked closer at Caladaer and was surprised to see the elvian wiping angrily at his eyes.

 

“Get sand in your eye, Cally?” Fenrir asked.

 

“No, I – I mean, y-yes, I suppose I did. I mean – I thought you were...”

 

Fenrir cocked his head. He didn't think he'd ever seen Caladaer so incoherent. If he weren't so distressed it'd be downright endearing. The black wolf licked at the elvian's eyelashes. “Don't be getting any more sand in your eyes on my account, alright habi'b?”

 

 _'I hate to be the Sorren in this instance, but would you stop flirting for one second and_ _ **focus**_ _?'_ Hubris demanded.

 

 _'Right! Right.'_ Fenrir looked up to see the beast chasing it's own tail. Froth and blood poured from it's mouth as it spun around rapidly, no doubt thinking it's tail was the thing that was attacking him. He remembered how often he had laughed to see Delilah perform the same action. Now he just felt sick.

 

“Yasimi did this,” he growled, making Caladaer start.

 

 _'Yasimi isn't here now,'_ Hubris snapped back. _'It's our responsibility to see that our pack mate doesn't come to anymore harm.'_

 

 _'Pack mate..?'_ Fenrir glanced at the possessed wolfkin, and then back at Cally. He gave a grunt. “We can't leave it like this.” Caladaer looked pale. He lifted his bow. Fenrir laid a gentle paw over it. “No need for that, habi'b. This is a wolfkin's fight.”

 

“Let me help, at least.”

 

Fenrir looked at him, and noticed his face was wet. It took him an inordinate amount of time to realize that is was raining. He glanced up the sky, and then his eye fell on the cliffs, and beyond them the hungry waves that surged against the shore. “You wouldn't have any rope, would you?”  


“In Vipen's pack. Why?”

 

Good ol' Caladaer. Of course he had thought to pack rope. The two of them slunk from dune to dune, staying low. The beast was plowing it's face into the sand, sniffing sand up it's nose, and then snorting it away. It pained Fenrir to see one of his own acting so deranged.

 

“How is it still going?” he asked in awe, once they were out of hearing range. It was still bleeding profusely from it's gaping chest wound, but seemed not to care.

 

“The curse,” Caladaer supplied. He cupped his hands around his mouth and let forth a loon's call. Fenrir was just about to ask if he was feeling alright, when an antlered head poked up over a distant dune. With a snort, Vipen trotted over to them. “Good lad.” Cally cooed, as he ran his hands over Vipen's chest and legs, checking for injuries.

 

Delilah loped after him, her white fur streaked pink with blood. She licked her alpha's nose, and Fenrir nuzzled her cheek in relief.

 

“The curse will keep it going, even through the most grievous of injuries,” Caladaer told Fenrir. “Blood loss might tire it, but I doubt it will kill it outright.” Fenrir considered that as Caladaer dove into the packs on Vipen's back, pulling out the rope. He held it out to Fenrir. “So, what's this for then?”

 

Fenrir grinned, showing off wolfish teeth.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The possessed beast was still snuffling the blood soaked sand when the elvian approached. Vipen was impatient, twitching nervously, even as his rider stroked his neck reassuringly. The wolfkin didn't hear them approach over the wind and rain, nor could it smell them over the blood.

 

Fenrir held his breath as he watched the elvian draw nearer to the beast, balancing on his dancing steed. He watched with Delilah on top of a lonely rock that jutted out over the top of the cliff. The wind clawed at his back, the rain seeking to soak his fur. But his attention remained firmly on the elvian and how dangerously close he was getting to the creature.

 

Caladaer was in plain sight now, but the cursed wolfkin dragged its head across the ground as if its neck were broken. It didn't see him. Halting just out of reach, the elvian glanced back at Fenrir, unsure of how to proceed. The plan hinged on the monster seeing and chasing after Cally. If he got much closer, it would likely be a very short and very bloody chase.

 

Fenrir sucked in a breath. He opened his jaws to bark at the beast, but Hubris nudged him mentally. _'May I?'_

 

_'"Hey Fopdiddly! Look at what the dinner bell brought in, you old glumpin' guts!'"_ Hubris bellowed out of Fenrir's mouth, his voice booming with magic that echoed across the dunes.

 

Fenrir retched and spat. _'That was the best you could come up with?'_

 

_'I thought it worked rather well.'_ Hubris sounded prim, as the cursed wolfkin turned its head toward them, and its eye landed on Caladaer.

 

_'Seriously need to bring your vocabulary up to date.'_ “Run, Cally!” Fenrir yelled. The elvian didn't need prompting. Vipen spun like a ballerina, and sprang away, galloping across the dunes. The beast bared its fangs, and barreled after elkrin and rider.

 

Delilah was urging Fenrir to come on. Reluctantly Fenrir tore his eyes away from the chase and followed her. Sliding down the cliffside, scattering pebbles and sea shells, they hit the beach running. Water swirled up over the rocks, and sucked at their paws. The rain pelted them, grown into darts of glass from the howling wind. In the distance thunder rumbled ominously.

 

_'Better hurry Fenrir,'_ Hubris told him.

 

The two wolves dashed across the sand. Fenrir recognized the big boulder as it came into view. “There!” he shouted. He and Delilah reached it just as Caladaer came running down the beach, the cursed wolfkin in hot pursuit. Vipen sprang over the tidepools and rocks with ease, while his pursuant simply crashed through it without seeming to slow down. It no longer even looked like a wolfkin, merely a black mass of flesh and teeth; mindless with hunger and pain.

 

Delilah snapped at him to pay attention, and Fenrir started scrambling up the boulder. Its sides were poked and riddled with dents. Oyster shells dug into his paw pads, slicing them open, but he ignored them.

 

At the top, part of the trap sat. Quickly he tested up the rope, one end of which Caladaer had looped around a little jut of stone at the boulder's top. The other lay in a snare at the bottom of the boulder. All Caladaer need do now was lead the beast into the trap, and Fate willing, the beast would be caught. After that... well, Fenrir didn't care to think of it just then.

 

Caladaer was almost upon them. Nimbly, the stag leapt over the snare to land on the small strip of beach between it and the boulder.

 

The elvian whirled his mount around, as the possessed wolfkin bore down on him. Jaws open wide, eyes swollen, throat gurgling, blood pouring out of it's mouth. Caladaer held his ground as the monster barreled closer. Its head swung madly, like some broken puppet twisting on its strings, trying no doubt, to keep its wandering eye on Caladaer. The only sign the prince gave of his nervousness showed in Vipen who pranced in place. Still Caladaer showed no signs of fleeing.

 

It wasn't until the monsters fangs were inches away from his head that Caladaer gave the signal. Vipen responded in a flash. The two leapt straight up into the air, just as the wolfkin slammed into the cliff side. It drew away, snarling and snuffling at the air. It had missed the snare.

 

Fenrir bit down on a growl of frustration. The beast was still unbound. Worse still, Vipen and Cally had landed next to it, and found themselves trapped between a rock and a halfblind dire. Luckily it was the blind half they had landed on.

 

The huge cursed wolf stood rigid, sniffing, and growling. Caladaer and Vipen didn't dare breath. They were close enough to feel the heat radiating off the beast. Its fur tickled Caladaer's leg, his other brushed the rock face of the boulder. Fenrir leaned out as far as he could, barely able to see him, as the elkrin squeezed itself against the rock.

 

Without warning the dark creature swung itself sideways, and Vipen followed suit, as quickly as if they had rehearsed it. As the wolfkin moved around, searching, Caladaer expertly maneuvered his elkrin to stay on its blind side all while sidestepping the snare.

 

  Vipen seemed to almost float, as he spun in sync to the vicious wolfkin's tossing, first one way, then the other, keeping close to the wolfkin's blind side. It was almost comical, their sidestepping detection by mere inches and seconds. As Fenrir watched, he couldn't help but feel a bit enamored of how gracefully the two moved together, elkrin and wolfkin, circling each other as if they were dancing partners. _I wonder if Cally dances..._  


_'Well, if he doesn't, you could always ask Vipen out for a waltz.'_

 

Just as the dance was increasing in tempo, the wolfkin's tail brushed Vipen's flank. With a howl of triumph, the beast swung its head at its newfound target. The elkrin leapt back, narrowly avoiding the crushing jaws. They snapped on a ruff of his feathers. Plumes of white exploded, and there was a _snap!_ as Vipen's hoof hit the trigger.  


The elkrin screamed in fear as the rope snapped tight around his foreleg and swept him upwards in a single jerk. Caladaer cried out in surprise as they were hoisted up. Grace giving way to panic, the elkrin bucked and kicked trying to free himself, striking at the beast with three terrified hooves. The wolfkin ignored the strikes, aiming to bite at the exposed neck and belly of the elkrin. Vipen leapt sideways to avoid it, spinning and tightening the rope around his leg. Caladaer snatched up his quiver and desperately began trying to beat the black mass back. The creature tottered, swinging at the elkrin with all the skill of a blindfolded child at a  piñata.

 

“Damn it!” Fenrir didn't have time to think. Tearing his gaze from the sight below, he sank his teeth into the rope. The tough fibers pricked at his mouth, and try as he might they proved impervious to his teeth. Scrambling, he overturned Caldaer's pack, spilling sandwiches everywhere. _Ah ha!_ There! Sorren would never let them leave home without at least one decent knife. Fenrir snatched it up in his teeth, using his tongue to maneuver it into position.

 

He got it under the rope and with a burst of power from Hubris, jerked it clean through.

 

He ran to the edge and looked down to see Vipen, freed, and still bucking like a mad jackalope as he tried to flee. He jerked crazily, twisting about in midair, trying to both escape the black predatory mass, and the rope that had wound around his leg. Caladaer held on for dear life.

 

“ _'Get out of there Cally!'”_ Fenrir yelled. The plan had failed. Now all that mattered was getting away.

 

The black wolfkin seemed to swell in size. It wavered like a mirage, and Fenrir found it hard to look at it for long. Its form remained solid, but inside it seemed to be a whirling mass, like the dark smoke cloud that hung over a forest fire. It screamed as it plunged at Caladaer, who was in the midst of removing the line from Vipen's leg.

 

Flinging aside the knife, Fenrir raced down the boulder, ready to spring at the beast and gain Cally an extra minute to make his escape. Instead of running away however, Caladaer, once his mount was free, charged his elkrin at the beast. Vipen seemed panic-stricken, torn between self-preservation and loyalty. Loyalty won out. The elkrin lowered his antlers and barreled toward the black monstrosity. Fenrir felt a surge of admiration for the stag, who must be thinking his death was at hand, and yet still ran blindly forward at his rider's behest.

 

Admiration or no, it was still suicide. “ _You idiot!”_ Fenrir slid off the boulder, barking obscenities. _“Get out of there!”_

 

Caladaer hefted the line of rope as the two met. Then he gave the signal. Instantaneously, Vipen leapt straight up, as if someone had attached springs to his legs. Teeth snapped closed on empty air where an instant ago the elkrin had been. Elkrin and rider seemed to balance on the very air for a heartbeat, time holding its breath. In that breath the beast surged upwards to meet them, opening jaws wide to devour them when gravity finally caught up with the two.

 

Then Caladaer twisted on Vipen's back. In a single fluid movement, the elvian hurled the loop of rope down, as the teeth reached up for him. His aim was perfect. The lasso encircled the wolfkin's neck, and with a sharp jerk, Caladaer tightened the knot.

 

In that moment several things happened. The black mass choked, spewing blood-stained saliva. Then it collapsed, clawing at this new assailant that closed around his neck. Vipen adjusted his flight to land heavily on the top of the boulder.

 

Fenrir skidded to a halt as scene slowly caught up with him. He stared up at Caladaer, who was grinning, wrestling with the rope. He tied it around Vipen's neck and then quickly dismounted, helping the elkrin to hold onto the quivering mass at the end of the rope.

 

_'Fenrir – I'm feeling something very strange indeed – or maybe that's your feeling. Why do I suddenly have the urge to pin Caladaer to the ground and press my face -'_

 

_'Yeah, that happens sometimes. You should probably just ignore it.'_

 

Caladaer beamed at him as if he'd heard. Fenrir grabbed Hubris' attention and focused it back on the wolfkin thrashing against the side of the rock. It's neck twisted as it flung itself around wildly, contorting it's body into horrible shapes. The tide lapped at its legs, and it's splashing was horrible in his ear.

 

Hubris' immediately sobered. _'End it now, Fenrir.'_ Fenrir was taken aback by the sorrow in Hubris' voice.

 

Fenrir found himself shaking. He looked down and saw his hands digging into the wet sand. Watched as the tide moved between them. The sensation was startling after so much time in his wolf form, and he felt all the aches and pains of his feral run afresh.

 

It was even more horrible a sight down at this angle. The rope caught on a crevice as the wolfkin lunged up at its constraint. Now it dangled from its neck, writhing back and forth as it tried to free itself. It was obvious that the beast was choking. It kicked its legs desperately. Pity welled up in Fenrir's heart for the poor creature. He yelled at Caladaer to give it some slack.

 

The creature collapsed as Caladaer did so. It lay on the ground gagging on it's own saliva and blood.

 

A few feet away, Sorren's knife glinted in the water. Fenrir waded over to collect it. After claiming it, he shakily struggled to his feet. He was trembling all over from the thrill of the hunt. And now here was the kill. He should be pleased with his and Caladaer's performance. But he wasn't. ' _I don't want to do this...'_ he thought.

 

Still – it was no longer the wolfkin it once was. It was a monster. That much was obvious enough just looking at it. Its joints bent at odd angles, and black bile sloughed off it's skin in great clumps. The curse had claimed it fully. It had killed the wolfkin inside, and turned the shell of it's body into a nightmare. But the nightmare was flagging. It flailed on the ground, too weak to stand, but driven by the curse to keep trying. It mustered a small growl as Fenrir approached, but its eye was dead.

 

Fenrir lifted the knife, intending to deal with this quickly. It felt oddly personally – he was a wolfkin of tooth and claw. The idea of ending a life with a human knife cast the situation in an almost ritualistic light. It didn't feel wrong though. The monster deserved a quick death – not being torn to pieces like a piece of prey.

 

Suddenly the monster's eye seemed to blaze back  to life. With no warning it lunged forward with surprising strength. Fenrir stumbled backwards in surprise. A white flash leapt to his defense with a howl. The monster's jaws crushed down on the white form instead of him. _“'Delilah!'”_ Hubris blazed into life inside his chest.

 

With a roar that rivaled the thunder, Hubris sprang forward and slammed the wolfkin into the boulder, fangs closing tight around his throat. Fenrir had the oddest sensation of watching his body acting without his control, as Hubris brushed him aside and took over as easily as he might dust away a pesky cobweb. Was this what Hubris felt like, trapped inside his head, a witness to events, but unable to act out and control them? The sensation was jarring.

 

He felt Hubris hesitate, just for a moment. And in that brief instant he felt and saw what the spirit did.

 

Fenrir saw some ugly, terrifying creature facing him. It was nothing but a burned ruin of some ancient, the skin and fur falling away, blackness oozing from gruesome injuries like infection. Black blood spilled from his nose and mouth, the jaw of which hung shattered. He trembled from the effort of standing. The horrible monstrosity faced him, defiance ringing in his stance, and asked for death. Fenrir realized with a jolt this was a memory he was watching. Hubris' memory. The Ancient of Wilds, with his last ounce of strength was standing to face his old adversary, though the action of standing alone was killing him slowly.

 

Fenrir felt Hubris' feelings at taking so great a life, the resignation and acceptance of that responsibility. He felt... proud to be granted such an honor. He gently wrapped his teeth around Wilds neck. His tongue pressed against the blood beat of his throat, felt the fading life within it. He could see the spark in the ancient's eyes – the desire to fight back at first, the acceptance that he couldn't, and then slowly it took on a look of gratitude. He slumped against Hubris and the spirit held him up as he bit down. Wilds died on his feet, supported by the spirit he'd fought so hard against.

 

He felt Hubris' sorrow at the loss of so great an adversary, but he felt more sorrow for the people Wilds left behind. Guilt plagued the spirit – not for the killing of Wilds – that had been an honor. Instead he felt it for his wolfkin, for though they might've sought Wild's for protection, the wolfkin were still his pack mates. They were his children, and he'd hurt them. The idea of hurting another of them made him hesitate now with the possessed wolfkin still in his jaws, wondering... if only he could've protected them... been stronger in fighting off Wilds... If only he had left Wilds to die alone... If only he could have made Yasimi understand...

 

Hubris couldn't do it. That much was becoming obvious to Fenrir, and the wolfkin in their jaws was beginning to recover from its stun. With a snarl Fenrir seized control of their body, and before he could think too long on it, sank his teeth into the warm throat. He tried not to think about the taste of the hot ashy blood, or the flailing death throes, instead thinking on what Hubris had shown him. _I am honored to give you relief, pack mate._

 

When the body grew still, he stepped away. Fenrir found he was trembling all over, a coldness sweeping over him that wasn't from the rain. He felt Hubris radiating comfort and understanding – though the spirit said nothing, allowing Fenrir a moment to collect his thoughts.

 

The first one that sprang to his mind shot fear through him. “Delilah!”

 

He rushed to the white wolf's side, just as Caladaer and Vipen leapt off the boulder. Caladaer reached her before Fenrir did, dropped next to her, and began digging around in his bag. Her tails rapped on the sand as Fenrir approached, her eyes glowing with pride.

 

“Is she all right?” Fenrir asked, sinking down beside her. He gently gathered her head into his lap, and cradled her, refusing to look at the nasty gash that ran along her side. Cally placed his hand on her side and closed his eyes.

 

It was an agonizing few seconds as Fenrir waited for Caladaer's answer. He saw the elvian's face suddenly relax a bit. “It's not too deep. She's dislocated her shoulder, and there's a cracked rib, but I'll be able to patch her up good as new once we get back home.”

 

Caladaer was taken off guard by Fenrir's sweeping him up into a hug. “Oof! I can't be of much assistance if you crack _my_ ribs, Fenrir.” Fenrir let him go, pleased to see Caladaer blushing hotly. At the sight something opened up within him and the wolfkin threw back his head and laughed. He laughed at the storm raging around them, and it seemed to laugh back. The elation and exhaustion made him feel light-headed and bubbly.

 

“Come here you!” Fenrir reached up to grab Vipen's face in his hands. The elkrin blinked, startled as Fenrir planted a kiss on his nose. “After this I'm taking you out dancing, you glitchin' beautiful piece of buckskin!” If it was possible for an elkrin to look embarrassed Vipen was it. Fenrir stroked his muzzle, as the elkrin gave Caladaer a look that said _'get me away from this crazy person please.'_

 

But Caladaer only laughed himself, relief shattering them both into mad guffaws. Fenrir felt raw - but it was a good raw, as if every emotion had been stripped clean, leaving him totally empty. His heart felt open and light, as if purged of all sins. He filled the empty space with laughter, and Caladaer added his own.

 

At last Caladaer got a hold of himself, but was still unable to suppress his giddy smile. “Help me bandage her up, would you?”

 

But not before Fenrir treated Caladaer to another of his hugs, pulling the elvian to his side. If they weren't sitting on the ground, Fenrir felt certain he'd have spun Cally around in sheer joy. As it was, he just sort of clung to him in a happy exhaustion, while the elvian tried to pull the bandages from his pack.

 

“My word,” the elvian wrinkled his nose. “You stink.” He looked down at his clothes now smeared with black blood from Fenrir's hug. He sighed. “What I wouldn't give for a nice hot bath right now.”

 

Fenrir's laugh died away. “What's a bath?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Fenrir carried Delilah back home on his back. She didn't seem to appreciate the ride, but Fenrir insisted.

 

Caladaer had wanted to bury the wolfkin, but by then the storm was upon them, and all of them too drained to lug much more then themselves off the beach. The elvian had only enough time to mutter a prayer and toss some herbs from his pack across the body, while Fenrir, Delilah and Vipen bowed their heads respectfully. His words were borne away on the wind, hopefully to wherever the wolfkin' soul had gone. The magic gone away with it's death, with it's eye closed, Fenrir could almost imagine the wolfkin as sleeping peacefully.

 

_'Good work, Fenrir,'_ Hubris told him, as they glanced back to watch the sea enfold the body in it's embrace. _'And thank you.'_ Hubris was reluctant to say more on the subject, but Fenrir could feel the spirit's conflicting emotions – both sad and proud.

 

_'It's not your fault, you know,'_ Fenrir told him.

 

_'I know that, but the heart can be rather a bit harder to persuade of simple truths.'_ Fenrir frowned in concern. Hubris' voice turned teasing. _'Heh! It's as stubborn as you are at times. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I am you, after all.'_ Fenrir couldn't help smiling at that. _  
_

 

They made their way back home slowly, Caladaer fussing over Delilah and Fenrir like a mother rune – much to Fenrir's immense delight, and Delilah's chagrin. The elvian listed off the ingredients he would need to make poultices for their wounds. Hubris shared Fenrir's amusement at the elvian's list, though neither of them could recall a single thing he rattled off. As they walked, the horror of the day seemed to melt away, washed clean by the scent of rain.

 

The streets were almost empty once they reached Silverport, the more sensible inhabitants having retreated inside at the first sign of rain. The strange sight of a giant bloodied wolf carrying a bandaged dire on it's back, talking to a elvian and his mount was lost to all but the wild glassworks and runes that huddled under the eaves. The four of them hardly seemed to care that they were soaked to the bone, bloodstained, and muddied – so happy were they to be alive in this wonderful storm. The rain washed away their cares as well as most of the grime as they made their way home.

When they reached the abandoned market square, Caladaer surprised him by dashing out from their party. He flung out his arms and spun in the center of the square like a child, laughing.  Fenrir watched his heavy wet clothes swirl about him, his hair a trail of dark red wine between the branches of his antlers. The elvian threw his head back, opened his mouth wide to catch the raindrops on his tongue. Vipen chased after him, frisking about him like a fawn as they splashed in the puddles. Fenrir didn't think he'd seen anything so beautiful, as that rainstorm.

 

Caladaer licked at his lips, and smiled at Fenrir. “As sweet as Mirthwood Wine.” Fenrir tipped his own head back and tasted the sweet autumn rain. He had to agree. It was as sweet as the finest of wines, and just as intoxicating. They loped through the streets drunk on rainwater and adrenaline, splashing and laughing as they went. It was a perfect moment to be alive, Fenrir thought.

 

And so they were when Sorren opened the door – wet, bedraggled, bloodied and bruised – but beaming with triumph. They were singing the praises of Fate while Delilah howled, whether in chorus or in pain from their singing was unclear.

 

“I knew this would happen.” Sorren shook his head, and walked to the kitchen to boil bandages.

 

“Ye knew this would happen? Then why'd you send them out there?” Willy called after him. When he got no answer he turned back to survey the trouble that stood dripping on his doorstep. “Ye four look like something a giant sea serval smacked around a few times, and then coughed up.” He burst into a grin. “Yer picnic that much fun, eh?”

 

Caladaer let out a breezy laugh, as he stepped inside, and began to wring out his clothes. “Ah – if it had been any more 'fun', I don't think I'd ever leave my greenhouse again.”

 

Willy's grin widened. “I know what ye mean. If Sorren didn't need me to pick up milk and eggs for pancakes, don't think I'd ever leave bed.”

 

Fenrir tried to shove his wolf form through the door and got stuck halfway through. Cally took hold of his ruff and pulled, while Vipen on the other side of the door gave the wolfkin a hard shove. “Watch the antlers! _Ouch!_ ”

 

Fenrir and Delilah tumbled into the house on top of Cally.

 

_'Oh! Is this what you meant by pinning Cally -'_

 

_'Shut up Hubris.'_ He felt Delilah wagging her tails wildly. The pain must have made her delirious.

 

Cally struggled out from under him with a chuckle. Caladaer, Fenrir and Willy helped carry Delilah into the living room. There was a sudden loud _thud_ from behind them.

 

“Vipen,” Caladaer sighed. “Antlers.”

 

Delilah was dressed in pillows and praise, as Fenrir changed back to two-legger form with a soft flash. He dropped into the first empty armchair, quicker than Willy could drop a pun. Exhausted, he found himself drifting off, before being woken by the sharp sting of Caladaer putting some smelly ointment on his wounds. He tilted his head to better watch the deer prince's face as he treated him.

 

“There,” Cally announced. “Do you think you'd be up for some supper? Sorren's just about finished.” The smell of something delicious wafted in from the kitchen and Fenrir's stomach growled. With a pang he realized that they'd missed lunch.

 

“Always up for supper,” he growled happily, stretching stiff joints.

 

Cally smiled at him, just as Willy popped his head over the armchair back. “So what in blazes happened out there anyway? Cally take you for a ride Scruffles?” With a snarl, Fenrir found he still had strength enough to fling a pillow at the laughing pirate's head.

 

_'I like the pirate,'_ Hubris told Fenrir.

 

_'You would.'_

 

_'Why does he call you Scruffles?'_

 

Fenrir stood too quickly and over balanced. Caladaer reached out to catch him, wrapping a surprisingly strong arm around his waist. Willy went on laughing, and Fenrir felt his face grow hot, though Cally didn't seem to notice. The elvian had changed into fresh clothes, and his hair smelled deliciously sweet. Fenrir thought he would happily drown in that hair.

 

Just as he finished thinking this, Caladaer pushed him into a tub of hot water and instructed him to scrub away the grime and filth before dinner. Then he left him to it. Fenrir grumbled to himself as he stripped the sticky clothes off himself. He plunged his arms into the hot water, letting it ease his joints, then quickly scrubbed the dirt from his hair, and called it a job well done. He changed into the fresh clothes that had been laid out for him, and ran out to dinner as quickly as he was able.

 

Dinner was abuzz with talk. Despite being a walking mummy dire in all her bandages, Delilah pushed her way to the kitchen and flopped down on the fluffy pillow Sorren had placed under the table for her, in perfect position to snatch up any and all crumbs that fell from Willy's plate. Fiore seemed put out by all the attention being lavished on a canine, and now sat on top of the ice box with her back turned to them. Willy tried to coax her over with a piece of cooked fish. When she ignored him, he shrugged and ate it himself.

 

Fenrir sat next to Caladaer, who gave him a look. "That was quick."

 

Before Fenrir could anwser, Sorren and Willy began bombarding them with questions. Fenrir's head began to swim. Caladaer swooped in to fill in most of their adventure.

 

“And when we heard howling, we knew something was wrong. I thought at first it was Fenrir – I was worried you'd gone savage, but then I thought...” Caladaer shrugged off the unpleasant thought. He went on to tell about the cursed wolfkin, and how they defeated it.

 

“You were brilliant, habi'b,” Fenrir told the prince. “Damn – and here I was thinking _I_ had to protect _you_ all these past months.”

 

Caladaer blushed, fingering the golden charm that dangled from his antlers. “I could have never done what you did Fenrir, but thank you. That is high praise.”

 

“You should've seen 'em, Sorren. Could have given even your tailfeathers a run for their baubles.” He grinned widely at the elvian.

 

Sorren looked pointedly at Willy. The pirate cocked his head, checking that he was using his utensils correctly and hadn't spilled anything. Nothing seemed amiss. “What?” he mouthed at the halfborn. Sorren just sighed and turned back to the conversation at hand.

 

“I'll send word to the Watch Crows on what's transpired, after dinner,” Sorren said. “We'll see if this wolfkin didn't have any family.” The meal quickly sobered at that thought. Willy gave Sorren such a strange a look at this – it seemed to Fenrir a mix of relief and worry.

 

Caladear was nodding. “Now that the curse is affecting wolfkin, who knows how quickly it will spread. But there's no use dwelling on that. What matters now is what we do to fix it.” The elvian turned to Fenrir, green eyes bright. “I could use your help Fenrir. You and Hubris. I'm sure you can help me stop more wolfkin from being affected.” He smiled, and Fenrir recalled his face in the rain, the expression sweeter then the strongest of elvian wine. “So what do you say? Think you'd like to stay?”

 

“What does he mean by stay?” Willy whispered loudly to Sorren. “Stay as in – forever stay, or – ow!” A sharp kick from under the table cut him off. The pirate sulked. “Well, fine, but I'm not sharing my closet with him.”

 

_'Hubris?'_ Fenrir asked. _'You're as deep in this as I am. Should we stay?'_

 

The spirit sniffed. _'Eh – you'll just do the opposite of whatever I say anyway.'_

 

_'Damn straight I will!'_ \- “I would love to stay.”

 

Sorren nodded sagely, passing him the bowl of buttered rolls. “Welcome home then, Fenrir.” The halfborn actually smiled at him.

 

Home. Darak'i. He'd almost forgotten the meaning of the word.

 

~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add a quick note of thanks to Sphye and Scar from Eldemore for doing some proofreading of this, and pointing out some typos and grammar failings. Thanks guys!
> 
> Also thanks goes to Bena for actually making such awesome characters, and giving us such awesome lore to work with. And lastly cj gets all of the thanks too, because their stuff is always so inspiring and makes me smile and want to write fluffy things. Probably would never have written this, and certainly never posted it if it wasn't for that. So thanks cj!


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